


Best Laid Plans

by dragonflower1



Series: Planetfall [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Anal, Angst, Biting, Choking, Continuation, Developing Relationship, Drama, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Marking, Post s05e20 Enemy at the Gate, Unrequited McShep, head canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflower1/pseuds/dragonflower1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlantis has saved Earth from Wraith invasion, but now sits in San Francisco Bay, cloaked and damaged.  With no immediate plans to return to the Pegasus Galaxy, what is going to happen to Todd?  And how far is John Sheppard willing to go to protect him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins right after 'Enemy at the Gate'. I have not read any of the Stargate books, nor am I following what has been revealed about the proposed storyline for 'Stargate: Extinction.' This is strictly from the show's perspective, and as such, I have tried to remain true to the situations and the characterizations as portrayed in the series. 
> 
> I am having a lot of fun writing Todd. I've only found a few stories where anyone really tries to get into his head, although he's a fascinating character. As Todd asserts, "There is much about Wraith that you do not know." So true! Their strengths and abilities have been touched on so little in the shows, I've had a wonderful time creating my own head canon. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy imagining it.
> 
> A million thanks to my Beta, The Spawn, for her valuable insight and grammatical Nazism.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis. This story is a transformative work written for private entertainment and is not for profit. I only claim ownership of my original characters. 
> 
> **Transformative works policy: Please check with me before playing in my universe. I'm relatively easy-going but I _am_ more protective of certain aspects of my stories and characters than others, so please ask for permission first.**

Todd watched John Sheppard's back as he walked out of the holding cell without a backward glance, stunned to silence by the heat of the human's anger and his dismissive coldness. 

Clawed fingers danced back to grip the edge of the scarred Formica tabletop, as the creature rose slowly to his full height. Impressive still, in spite of the nondescript dark grey fabric jumpsuit the humans had foisted upon him, he stalked toward the closed portal the Colonel had retreated through moments before. The wraith brought up his hands and pressed them gently against the center of the solid door, knowing a heavily-armed Marine on the other side stood between himself and freedom in an otherwise empty corridor.

Sheppard certainly wouldn't be lingering in the hall. The human had made it abundantly clear that the wraith, after all, meant nothing to him.

Todd stepped back, hands dropping loosely to his sides. Alone and unobserved, he allowed his broad shoulders to slump. His golden eyes closed involuntarily as the painful realization he'd been holding at bay finally coursed through him. 

_I've been such a fool._

He'd given up everything – his hard-won place within the Hives that had taken him in, his ships and crew when he had risen high enough to command ships of his own; his health – his pride – time and again for John Sheppard. And what did he have to show for all his pains? Absolutely nothing. Stripped of even the clothes on his back, he was imprisoned in a human stronghold three million light years from home, with no way to get there. All this of his own volition, to help Sheppard, and by extension, his people. Trapped in a cell because he foolishly stuck out his neck for the human Brother he had genuinely come to care about, certain – until now – that the feeling was mutual. 

It confused and angered Todd that he could have been so very wrong about Sheppard, but he now understood why the human might have denied him access to his thoughts, if this was what he'd been hiding. Although, up until now all empiric evidence pointed to a very different scenario. The wraith shook his head in consternation. 

It just didn't add up. 

Like all Wraith, Todd relied almost entirely on telepathy when communicating within the Hive. The same ability was used when hunting, flushing humans out of hiding by filling their minds with fear and panic, and drawing information from them almost effortlessly when necessary. 

Dealing with John Sheppard had been an entirely different matter. The human had stubbornly resisted the gentle nudging mental requests for entry the wraith had sent to him over the years. In truth, he could have entered anytime he wanted and rummaged around to his heart's content – Sheppard couldn't have kept him out - but he had considered the man an equal, and it was important to him that the human feel his boundaries were being respected. More forceful efforts had also been rebuffed, and short of mind-raping him, Todd had no choice but to back off, having to rely instead on the human's words and actions to gauge his feelings and responses. It was maddening sometimes, trying to figure out what went on behind those dancing hazel eyes. 

However, the wraith did still possess one slight advantage, even with the enforced silence between them: Sheppard's scent. Fear, anger, desire – these could be quite easily discerned regardless of the human's attempts to hide them. Musk and pheromones always spoke the truth about Sheppard's emotional state, and that, to a large extent, was why Todd kept returning; in spite of the obvious double-dealing the humans subjected him to, and the sometimes-taciturn reception he received from the Colonel himself, John was always glad to see him. 

He must have missed something somewhere along the way, though, because according to the Colonel's diatribe, the bond – the respect – the, dare he say, _affection,_ or at least attraction - he had thought they shared had been a one-sided delusion of Todd's. The times Sheppard had helped him, saved him, fed him, and fought beside him, had apparently all just been part of some elaborate Lantean plot to keep the stupid, besotted wraith interested and coming back for more. 

And Todd had fallen for it, offering information, troops, ships, ZPM's – anything he could beg, borrow, or steal, to give him an excuse to be near the human again. At least that is what the Colonel had spat out at him in a vitriolic tirade, when the weary wraith had asked in an unguarded moment if John had come up with a plan to get him out of the cell. 

Sheppard had laughed, a short, cruel bark of laughter, looking at Todd through narrowed eyes, like the wraith was crazy for ever believing the human had ever felt anything but contempt for him. The Colonel advised him in no uncertain terms, that he'd only used Todd for information and tactical purposes. Now that the wraith no longer served a purpose, he was done with him. End of story. John's final remark still hung in the air, a verbal kick in the teeth that had chilled Todd to the core of his being.

“ _They're coming for you tomorrow. You can rot in a cell forever, for all I care.”_

The anger rolling off the human in waves had convinced the wraith more than anything else, that Sheppard meant every word he was saying.

Todd lifted his chin and squared his shoulders as he turned away from the metal-banded door he'd been staring at, unseeing, and slowly returned to the table, snarling at his own weakness. He'd allowed himself to be taken in by this human. He had actually _cared_ for him, and had thought the human felt the same. In actuality, he'd been tricked and used and cast aside when he had nothing more to offer. 

Now he was sad because the human had – what – revealed that they had never been friends? What else was new? The romantic notion he'd been foolish enough to entertain that a human and a wraith could possibly build something together was just that – a notion – and a monumentally stupid one at that. In reality, it rarely worked out. His obsession with Sheppard had left him vulnerable to the human's machinations, and the Colonel had taken full advantage.

The wraith used his rising anger to push away any lingering sorrow for what might have been, building a wall between himself and the emotions which only served to paralyze him. He couldn't let a few nasty words from a duplicitous human with the lifespan of a gnat take him down so easily. He was _Wraith_ , after all, and their indomitable strength of both body and spirit had made them a fearsome presence in the Pegasus galaxy for millennia. 

He only wished that he could draw strength from his own assertion. At the moment he was wraith – alone - and trapped. He had felt the shockwave rock the City when the superhive had been destroyed, but clung to the faint hope that at least some of his kindred had survived to make planet-fall. If they had, none of them were close by, or if they were, none were advertising their presence. He had already reached out telepathically, hoping for a response, but only sensed a great echoing silence. Without even John Sheppard to back him up, he felt as abandoned and forgotten as he had in the Genii cell. Anxiety, and the first tendrils of real fear tickled his belly and crept up his spine. With a snarl of defiance, he buried them as well, keeping everything firmly in-check with barely-surpressed rage.

Uncertain as to when his next meal might make itself available, Todd knew, from far too much experience, that he would need to conserve his strength for as long as possible. In spite of his instinctive desire to pace the confines of his cage, the wraith sat back down in the battered chair in a single fluid motion, the unconscious grace of the predator in every movement regardless of his state-of-mind. He laid his hands flat on the table before him, and settled into the preternatural stillness his kind were wont to adopt when waiting was the only option. Focusing inward, he tried to relax.

Todd had barely closed his eyes when the lock broke on the wrath-enforced prison where he'd relegated his emotions. Too intense to keep at bay any longer, they flooded his system, overwhelming him. Despair blossomed like a poisonous flower in his chest, the far-too-familiar sensation almost choking him with its suddenness. Taking a long, shaky breath and letting it out slowly, the wraith fiercely tried to quiet his mind as he rode out the storm. After several minutes of deep, measured breathing, his furrowed brow became smooth and his face calm. Unable to find peace any other way, he finally, surprisingly, found solace in a remnant of the hope which had been ignited in him against his will three years earlier, in a hellhole of a Genii prison compound by the same John Sheppard who had just done his best to extinguish it. 

Damn the human, anyway. 

As much as it was like chewing on ground glass to admit it, he needed Sheppard. Perhaps if he was patient enough for long enough, the human might change his mind and come back to help him – or just come back, hate and all. Although Todd realized that either option was a hope in vain, for now it was all he had to stave off the malaise that was still threatening to envelope him. He didn't think his sanity would survive another protracted imprisonment. Alone, he was sure it wouldn't. 

The unfocused gaze of his half-lidded eyes registered nothing and everything as his respiration deepened and slowed, conserving energy and giving his mind a respite from the bleak reality of his situation. For the moment, the tiny warm flame of hope was all the wraith saw and he basked in its glow. He couldn't let that die - not again, or there wouldn't be anything left of him worth salvaging.

0*0*0*0*0

John Sheppard stepped out onto the balcony near the Commander's office, gulping the bracing San Franciscan breeze in spite of the chill. He gripped the cold, slick railing tightly, and watched the late afternoon fog roll in to cover the City by the Bay, trying to catch his breath and waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. Sheppard had practically run out of the cell where Todd was being held. He couldn't get away fast enough. 

“I'm a terrible person,” John murmured aloud, unable to block out the crumbled, devastated expression – the raw pain on the wraith's face before he could hide it behind a mask of indifference. It had shaken the Colonel in its intensity.

He hadn't see an expression like that on the wraith's face since they'd first met, in Kolya's prison, when Todd – just another nameless enemy at the time, had recoiled from the brilliance of Sheppard's unshakable faith that his friends would come and find him. The Colonel didn't know until later, but the wraith had harbored similar certainties in the earliest days of his captivity – and was loathe to allow himself to again feel the exquisite agony of hope, only to have it crushed a second time in the face of interminable, inexorable torture.

The time Colonel Sheppard spent at the Genii's tender mercy wasn't something he cared to recall, and _his_ confinement had been brief. He couldn't even begin to imagine what Todd had been through, or for how long. The wraith rarely spoke of it.

Sheppard bowed his head, lips tightening in anger again, although not at Todd. His anger wasn't aimed at the wraith, and hadn't been, even when he'd been yelling terrible things at him. His own sense of powerlessness was what had set him off when Todd had asked for his help. John was angry at himself for the games he'd been forced to play that had placed the alien in one of their holding cells in the first place, at the IOA for their unwholesome interest in said alien, and his chain-of-command, namely Woolsey, for handing Todd over on a silver platter. 

In the early days of his command of Atlantis, Richard Woolsey and John Sheppard had clashed many times on matters of protocol. Woolsey was, and always would be, a by-the-book man at-heart, while Sheppard was more of a seat-of-the-pants kind of guy. In the Pegasus Galaxy, flying by the seat of your pants was often the better plan, and Woolsey had loosened up after a while, not throwing the book out the window – but closing it, and learning to respond to situations as needed. In spite of their differences in approach and style, Sheppard had grown to like and respect the man. 

The only problem was, they weren't in the Pegasus Galaxy anymore. In the span of just a few hours Woolsey had reverted from the promising leader of a far-flung Earth outpost to a government bureaucrat. He'd been all too happy to ask 'how high' when the IOA told him to jump. It made John's head spin at how quickly Richard – _Dick –_ had knuckled under. As much as John wanted to lay all the blame at Woolsey's feet, though, Sheppard understood why the man hadn't pushed back when the IOA informed him they wanted the wraith. The Commander had been a toadie of the government agency for years before he took command of Atlantis. It was probably as deeply-ingrained in Woolsey to comply with their wishes, especially now that they were on Earth, as it was for John to snap to attention when commanded – done automatically, and without conscious thought. 

“ _There's nothing I can do, Colonel,” Woolsey had the decency to look sheepish as he tried to placate an irate Sheppard pacing back and forth in front of his desk._

_John stopped mid-pace, and glared down at the smaller man. “So that's it? You're gonna hand Todd over, just like that?” He spread his arms wide, taking in the command deck of Atlantis. “You're in charge here, you're the law. Just tell 'em he's dead, or that we misplaced him. Something – anything.”_

“ _In Pegasus I suppose I was the law – to a certain extent,” Woolsey replied slowly, choosing his words carefully now to keep the Colonel's simmering temper from boiling over. “We're on Earth, though, and now I'm under the jurisdiction of the IOA. The Agency was very careful to ascertain that we had Todd in custody, and that he was alive and well, before extending their ...invitation. Unfortunately, I have no room to maneuver.”_

_Sheppard scrubbed his fingers through his dark hair, the movement a well-known indicator of his growing frustration. “When are they scheduled to pick him up,” he finally asked, not sure he wanted the answer._

_Richard referred to the overflowing clipboard perched on the edge of his desk, flipping a few pages. The metal clip was doing its best and failing, to contain the thick pile of damage reports from all over the city, reminders, schedules, and hundreds of other tasks, large and small, wedged into it. “Tomorrow morning at 0800 hours,” he glanced surreptitiously at the Colonel over his steel-rimmed glasses, assessing him carefully. “If I may ask, Colonel. Why are you so concerned about the wraith, and what happens to him? I would think that by now you'd be glad to be rid of him.”_

_Woolsey caught and held John's gaze, really wanting an answer – the real answer, although he knew he probably wouldn't get it. He could almost see Sheppard mentally sifting through the complex and strange connection he'd forged with the wraith, looking for the simplest, most easily-digestible explanation he thought he could get away with._

_After a silence that was just reaching awkward proportions, Sheppard finally shrugged and answered quietly, “At the end of the day, he's a friend.”_

_Woolsey frowned thoughtfully down at the clipboard as he smoothed the pages back into place, then back up at John. His expression was inquisitive and open, wanting to be convinced. “But he's an alien, John. He's the enemy.”_

_The Colonel's eyes flashed dangerously, as he tented his fingers on the desk and leaned forward, looming over Woolsey. “The_ Wraith _may be the enemy, but Todd is only one of them, and he hasn't been an enemy for a long time. You know that. He contacted us to let us know that the hive ship was powering up with a ZPM, and put himself in our hands, trusting us with his life and well-being.”_

_Sheppard had reached his limit._

_Banging his fist in impotent rage on the struggling clipboard, Sheppard glowered down at the smaller man. It took everything Woolsey had not to shrink back before his almost-snarling Military Commander. “With all due respect, Mr. Woolsey, I think it sucks that we're getting ready to repay him by allowing him to be taken to a secret lab somewhere in the desert, so they can do god-knows-what to him.”_

_Angry now, and feeling helpless in the face of remorseless government bureaucracy, Sheppard knew he'd better leave before he said something he'd really regret. Pushing himself upright, he stalked out of Woolsey's office, not hearing Richard's soft, resigned sigh, or his measured reply to the Colonel's rapidly-retreating back. “For what it's worth John, I think it sucks, too.”_

0*0*0*0*0

John was so lost in thought, he maneuvered the formerly-pristine halls of Atlantis like a sleepwalker, barely dodging work crews and tripping over debris. Systems were struggling, or in many cases, just broken altogether. Between the battle with the Hive ship, the beating the City had taken as it had entered Earth's atmosphere, and the rough landing, he was amazed anything was functioning at all. 

Absently finger-combing the dampness from the fog through his short dark hair, John punched the button for the transporter twice before noticing the big 'Out of Order' sign neatly duct-taped to the door. Mentally adding 'transporters' to his growing list of downed systems, he decided it might be easier to keep track of what _was_ working instead. He was sure that would be a much shorter list.

With a sigh of exasperation, Sheppard squared his shoulders and took to the darkened stairwell, carefully descending with just the dim emergency lights to guide him. 

The Colonel had to traverse two more equally-treacherous hallways and another flight of stairs – well-lit this time, but crumbling – before he finally reached Dr. McKay's lab. The banks of bright work lights and bustle of activity in the corridor and inside the lab itself brought Sheppard up short. He really needed to speak with Rodney right away, but doubted that in the midst of this chaos the good Doctor would be able to spare him more than a moment or two, and probably not in private.

Being Chief Engineer meant Rodney was in charge of the repairs to Atlantis – all of them. Since the City had landed in San Francisco Bay earlier in the day, McKay's lab had quickly become Repair Central, and John was sure Dr. McKay was having the time of his life. He got to arrange the entire repair schedule, _and_ dole out all the tasks, _and_ critique all the work: a trifecta of micro-management Sheppard was sure would keep Rodney very happy for quite some time.

Sure enough, Dr. Rodney McKay, bathed in the glow of emergency lights and back-up-generator-powered computers, and barking orders and insults to harried technicians, looked like a man who was thoroughly enjoying himself. Even from the doorway, where he was being flattened against the frame by a team of workers scurrying to escape McKay's wrath, Sheppard could see the gleam in his eye. 

John waved his hands over his head, trying to attract McKay's attention over the heads of the small restless crowd flowing in and out of the lab, but to no avail. Finally, seeing a break in the teeming masses, Sheppard slipped into the room and made his way to Rodney's side as Dr. McKay entered something into his laptop, oblivious to everything but the screen in front of him. Knowing he wouldn't have much of a chance of being heard above the din, John tapped the smaller man on the shoulder. McKay spun around, hand over his heart. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he blurted. “Where did you come from?”

“I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes,” Sheppard drawled. “I need to speak with you.”

Still slightly crouched, McKay looked up at him expectantly.  


“Privately.”

Rodney straightened and looked around at the crowded room, then met John's gaze with a raised eyebrow and a sardonic grin. “That'll be a neat trick.”

“Now.”

“If you haven't noticed, I'm in the middle of a rather large shitstorm at the moment. I haven't got the time or...”

“This'll only take a few minutes,” Sheppard assured him. Wrapping a strong hand around McKay's upper arm the Colonel dragged him from the lab, ignoring the Doctor's sputtered protests, as the sea of relieved humanity parted to let them through. 

 


	2. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like all good rescue missions, this one can't be accomplished without the members of Sheppard's Team working from their strengths. John turns to Rodney for much-needed assistance as they discuss details of his plan to spring Todd. After synchronizing watches, Dr. McKay sets out to do his part and has an adventure of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a technical person in any real sense of the word. I'm more of an end-user. In my mind, Atlantis' systems run on magic and bacon. :) Of course Dr. McKay is all about the technical end of things, so there is some techno-babble in this chapter, but I tried to keep it vague enough to be believable. 
> 
> I've also sort of introduced two original characters which you don't actually meet, and will probably never see again, but they were necessary for the chapter.
> 
> Once again I offer many thanks to The Spawn for Beta duty. Her continued support and patience when I keep handing her half-finished documents to read for the hundredth time is appreciated.

“Intermittent power outages are getting worse. Environmental controls are completely out, but thankfully it's July, and while San Francisco's summers are surprisingly cool for California, no one is going to freeze before the heat's up and running again.” Rodney paused as he scrolled down the screen, then continued. “We can't get the hanger iris to close, so the puddle-jumper bay is open to the sky. The main computer seems okay, but with the constant re-booting from the power randomly fluctuating all over the place, it's really difficult to determine what its status is yet. It just keeps spitting out reports about all the systems we haven't fixed yet.” 

Dr. McKay rattled off the litany of Atlantis' ills, his voice echoing hollowly in the empty lab. Repair Central had shut down for the night, as exhausted technicians retreated for some much-needed rest before facing another long day of work. The back-up generators were 'resting' as well to conserve power, leaving any sections of Atlantis without electricity dark and silent, including Rodney's lab. 

Pausing suddenly, Rodney leaned forward and frowned at the screen of his laptop. The pale light illuminating his grimacing face from below in the otherwise darkened lab reminded Sheppard of boyhood camping trips, and ghost stories told by the glow of flashlights. Schooling himself to patience, the Colonel stood by while Atlantis' Chief Engineer pecked at the laptop's keyboard, glancing up at the screen now and then with an expression of barely-suppressed panic Sheppard was all too familiar with. 

“Oh – this isn't good,” Rodney muttered, hitting a few more keys, “Not good at all.” Finally, he caught John's gaze almost apologetically, then looked away. With a sigh, he pushed the computer a couple of inches away from him as though trying to distance himself from the bad news, and laid his hands carefully on the workbench before meeting Sheppard's eyes. 

“What is it?” John hissed through clenched teeth, patience be damned. 

“Internal sensors and monitoring devices are back on-line,” Dr. McKay announced hesitantly. “The cutover was done at about seven, right before everyone called it a night. They've been up and running for two hours. It's just been so crazy busy, I didn't realize it until now.”

Sheppard snagged a stool from under the table and sank onto it with a sigh, weariness evident in his slumped posture and sagging shoulders. “Figures those would be the systems they'd decide to really crank on,” he mused ruefully as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve the knot of tension forming at the base of his skull. 

“They were probably just an easy fix. If I remember correctly, I don't think they were as damaged as some of the others,” Rodney responded absently, as he pulled the laptop closer again and began perusing data. “That's exactly why,” he confirmed a few minutes later, finding it sadly ironic that with Atlantis falling to pieces around them, he was in a position where he couldn't even be happy about something being successfully put back together.

Sheppard leaned forward, resting his elbows on the workbench, his face pinched and anxious as he glanced up at the other man. “What are we going to do here, Rodney? I was counting on you to keep the path clear for me. With those systems back up, it's over before it's begun.”

McKay tapped his stylus thoughtfully against the edge of the bench, considering their options. With two of their most important tracking networks already powered up, he wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish what John wanted. 

It was imperative to the success of Sheppard's plan that any movement of the wraith within Atlantis be kept, quite literally, under the radar. With the internal sensors working and attuned to scan for lifesigns other than human, the moment Todd stirred from the brig, anyone who happened to be monitoring that particular screen on the bridge would be alerted instantly. While just shutting them down seemed like the obvious answer, the technicians who did the work would have made copious notes – Rodney would have insisted on it, so undoing things without leaving a trail was going to be next to impossible. 

He knew this was important to John, and as a member of his team, not to mention his best friend, Rodney wanted to help. He really did – not only for John's sake, but for his own, too. Hell, Todd had saved Jeannie's life, and now it was the wraith's turn to need saving. That was reason enough, as far as Rodney was concerned.

He'd come to terms with what Todd was, when the wraith had collapsed so close to completion of the program to shut down the Nanites, McKay could taste it. After a brief-but-thorough examination of the situation, where Rodney fully acknowledged what the wraith would do to him, he had still decided it was in everyone's best interests if he offered himself as a meal. Although John had managed to bring in a last-minute substitution to assuage the wraith's hunger, the memory of his introspection and his understanding of the alien's nature, had never faded. In spite of that – or perhaps because of it – McKay never ceased to be amazed that a creature as old and powerful and dangerous as Todd stepped up to the plate again and again when they needed him. 

Although Todd was John's... friend, and the loyalty Sheppard was displaying toward the wraith gave testament to that fact, Rodney sometimes felt an odd kinship with the alien, as well. Brilliant, set apart, often misunderstood, McKay found he enjoyed bouncing ideas off the taciturn wraith, who, in spite of his natural reticence, seemed to respond to the Canadian's enthusiasm. Rodney, for his part, was a little in awe of the vast wealth of knowledge he was privileged to partake of whenever he and Todd crossed paths. 

He agreed with Sheppard's assessment of the wraith's plight, and didn't want Todd taken away by the IOA any more than John did, with good reason. Unlike John, who could only conjecture, McKay had actually worked in Area 51 for quite a while. He had enough clearance to rate 'The Tour”, and visited the secret labs. He had seen the carefully-preserved bodies and tissue samples first-hand. He'd seen... things, obviously sentient things... that weren't dead, but he was certain wished they were. He didn't want the wraith to end up in pieces, floating in jars of embalming fluid, neatly labeled and arranged on a shelf. Or worse, locked away somewhere, alive and being slowly starved to death as unspeakable things were done to him in the name of science. Both were very real possibilities, and if Todd was handed over to the IOA at 0800 as planned, the alien would most likely end up facing both eventualities.

Rodney compressed his lips into a grim, determined line. He was not going to let that happen, not if he could help it. 

Still leaning on his elbows, Sheppard watched McKay's face closely as the scientist made and discarded a hundred plans in a matter of minutes. John could almost _see_ the cogs and gears turning in Rodney's head, and struggled again with his impatience while McKay... processed. 

On field missions, this was the part where John usually went out on patrol to check the perimeter, or chat up the locals for more information – something, anything – to keep himself busy, to feel useful. He hated the gawky helplessness waiting around engendered in him, but at the moment he had been brought to a standstill by external forces only Rodney could circumvent. If it was left up to John, he'd find the drawer that held the sensor crystals and blast them. Of course, that might lead to awkward questions, so it was better that McKay was taking point on this one. 

Pale blue eyes suddenly flickered up from the unearthly gleam of the laptop screen, meeting startled hazel, and the crooked smile rapidly growing on Rodney's face split into a grin of inspired genius. “Why not use what we've been given for our own purposes?” Not waiting for a response – he wasn't really expecting one – McKay hunched over the computer and typed furiously, pausing now and then as he waited for the processor to catch up with him. After a few minutes he sat back with a satisfied sigh, smiling beatifically as he spread his hands open before the computer in a sublime gesture of presentation.

John frowned quizzically as he rose from the stool and joined his companion. Peering over McKay's shoulder, Sheppard found himself rather voyeuristically spying on Todd as he sat motionless in the holding cell, hands flat on the table before him. The angle of the view was above and behind, slightly to the right of the wraith. 

“You hacked into the surveillance system,” Sheppard murmured. “Why?”

“You'll see. Watch this!” McKay dramatically reached out with one finger and hit a button on the keyboard, then sat back again and folded his arms across his chest as the image blinked out for a split second, replaced by another view of Todd seen from above, behind, and to the left. The wraith came to life as John watched, slowly turning his head to direct his piercing gaze over his shoulder, right at John – or at least the camera. Sheppard had a sneaking suspicion that if anyone could actually see him through the wrong end of a camera lens like that, it would be their alien guest. 

After a moment the wraith returned to his neutral position, facing forward with an aggrieved sigh. Just as he became still, Rodney poked the key again, and now they were looking down at Todd head-on. The wraith's half- mast lids slid back and he glared up at the camera above the door without moving, clearly indicating that he was not amused by this game with the barest narrowing of his golden, catlike eyes. 

Sheppard unconsciously echoed Todd's expression, narrowing his eyes, as well, as he looking questioningly at the seated scientist. “And... what purpose would this be serving,” he asked, “other than to piss off the wraith?”

“Don't you see?” Rodney answered, the flailing of his hands increasing as he grew more agitated. “With these cameras, I can create a hologram of Todd so that once you get him out of there, he won't be missed.” 

John straightened, his face momentarily blank with surprise. “You can do that?”

“The Ancient's can – or could. I found the program and protocols in the main computer a while ago, and played around with them a little.” McKay turned in his seat to face the thunderstruck Colonel, “I've successfully produced small holograms. I'm sure I can create a larger one of Todd. It's the same process, really - it's just a matter of scale.”

Sheppard clapped Rodney on the shoulder and gave his friend a slow smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “That's a good idea. I was kinda wondering how we were going to keep anyone from finding out Todd was missing before morning.” 

Dr. McKay grinned back, glad to see some of the tension easing from John's shoulders. Turning back to the computer screen, Rodney began implementing the plan even as they were discussing it. “It shouldn't take me more than another twenty minutes or so to get the footage I need off the security cameras, then another half-hour to re-route the cameras to the right system and upload the completed hologram.”

“What about taking the sensors and surveillance systems off-line?” John asked as he glanced at his watch, trying to synchronize his next move with the time Rodney needed to get everything ready.

“Everything's in the same maintenance corridor. It shouldn't take me too long to figure out how to bring everything down without leaving fingerprints.” McKay tapped a few keys, bringing up the completed work order. He quickly scrolled through the irritatingly-thorough notations, to the bottom. “Gilmartin and Caputo,” he murmured, frowning slightly. 

“Something wrong?” 

The Colonel produced a small flashlight from one of his many pockets and turned it on, flashing it randomly over the darkened recesses of the room to make sure it was working. 

Rodney looked up, distracted. “What? No. I was just checking to see who'd done the work. A couple of techs named Caputo and Gilmartin. There's something about them I should remember – I think. Something important, but I can't put my finger on it.”

“Okay, if that's it, then, I'm gonna go. I have to see a lady about some wraith parts.” John turned to make his way out of the lab. “I'll give you an hour from now, then I'm getting Todd out of that cell – ready or not.” 

“I'll be ready.” 

0*0*0*0*0

McKay stealthily made his way to Maintenance Corrider C, laptop bag in one hand and flashlight in the other. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to skulk in the shadows as he traversed the debris-strewn hallways, other than it felt like the right thing to do. After all, he was part of a conspiracy to sabotage some of Atlantis' systems in order to help a hostile alien escape – skulking seemed to be in order. 

It wasn't that he really expected to meet anyone on his journey. This part of the City had been evacuated due to lack of power, and at this time of night, everyone was either gathered in the few well-lit sections of the city, socializing, or had dutifully sought repose in temporary quarters. Even the Marine patrols had been reassigned elsewhere, assuming that being on Earth, and cloaked, was enough to keep Atlantis safe. 

In truth, Rodney wasn't bothered by the sabotage part of the plan. He'd done this kind of thing dozens of times during off-world missions. The only difference was that this time it was happening closer to home. He wasn't worried about the echoing solitude and eerie darkness either. He'd wandered around enough creepy, downed Hives and Ancient ruins to have gotten over his trepidation a long time ago. What really bothered the good Doctor, as he peered carefully around a corner before proceeding, was that he had the theme from _Mission: Impossible_ stuck in his head. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, “I'm doing my own theme music.”

Desperately trying to shake the sound of woodwinds and brass from his brain, McKay latched onto the first stray thought that wandered by: Caputo and Gilmartin. Gilmartin and Caputo... what was it about those two that kept niggling at him. Like most of the technicians assigned to the care and running of the minor systems on Atlantis, he knew them by last name only. What was unusual was that he could also connect faces with these names, so they must have stood out for some reason, but what – and why was it so important to Rodney's current mission that he was wasting his time trying to remember. 

Still wracking his brain, McKay almost missed his last turn, the low hum of energy where there should be none finally registering after he'd already passed the door. Backing up, Rodney automatically hit the door panel. He started chiding himself immediately for having expected the portal to respond when there was no power, and stopped, amazed, when it did. After picking his way through the absolute blackness of Atlantis' interior with only the meager beam of a tiny LED flashlight to see by, he was almost blinded by the lightspill of the cage-enclosed overhead bulbs in the Corridor. He instinctively put up a hand to shield his sensitive eyes until they adjusted.

Once he could see again, Dr. McKay stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him. Moving aside some tools and crystals left on the worktable, more of a pedestal, really, in the middle of the small, octagonal room, Rodney placed his laptop down as he allowed his gaze to follow the trails of wires patched into opened panels and drawers, all tracing back to the small naquedah generator sitting on the floor, humming softly to itself. A faint smile played on his lips. He'd never really appreciated how comforting the buzz of flowing power could be, and how much he missed it when it was absent. 

McKay wasted no time in setting up his computer, gratefully plugging its cord into the live power strip on the improvised workbench. He couldn't help but be impressed with the quality of the set-up Caputo and Gilmartin had rigged that day, and wondered if that was what had previously brought them to his attention: their stellar workmanship. Deciding that must be it, Rodney checked the laptop to make sure the hologram file was ready to upload. 

It was. 

He counted over and up from the doorway, locating the drawer containing the holographic system he needed in order to bring Todd's image to three-dimensional life. Checking his watch, McKay quickly slid the drawer open and moved the requisite crystals around, making room for the ones he needed from the security cameras. With a sharp exhalation of breath, he hesitantly moved farther around the table, still uncertain how he was going to bring down the sensors and surveillance equipment without it being obvious they had been tampered with. 

Both systems resided at the bottom of the row directly across from the door. With the octagonal plinth in the center of the room it was a bit of a tight squeeze for Dr. McKay as he crouched next to the open drawer, inspecting the repair. It was well done, and a frown creased Rodney's brow as he considered how to undo it. 

Shifting to make himself a little more comfortable, he overbalanced on the balls of his feet and instinctively braced his hands against another of the open bins higher up, to catch himself. In doing so, he jostled it, freeing an almost-full can of warm grape soda from its hidden perch. 

It was sheer, dumb luck that his reflexes were fast enough for him to catch it mid-flight as it headed straight for the crystals he needed. With a gasp of surprise, he jerked back and landed hard on his ass, the can still firmly gripped between his fingers while it sloshed dark, sticky-sweet goo on his t-shirt and jacket. 

“Damn you, Caputo! You're going down this time,” Rodney snarled aloud as he glared at the offending soft drink. It all came flooding back to him, the reason that name, and Gilmartin's, were familiar. It wasn't the first time this particular team had left a little 'present' for him to find when he was inspecting one of their jobs. 

Little dark-haired Caputo, so sweet butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, had a nasty grape-soda habit. He had yelled at her several times to stop leaving not-quite-empty cans of the stuff lying around for other people, usually him, to kick or knock over, and end up – well, basically like he was now, covered in artificial colors and sweeteners. She was always so contrite, so sincere in her apologies – and other than that, she was a top-rate technician, so he let it slide. Gilmartin was her partner-in-crime, no sugared-drink addiction that he knew of, but the two techs had been working as a team since they were assigned to Atlantis a year earlier, so their names were inextricably linked. 

He wasn't going to let it slide this time.

“I don't have time for this!” Rodney groused as he cautiously set the can down on the floor next to him like an unexploded bomb. He gingerly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a couple of neatly-folded tissues. Shaking them out, he proceeded to wipe off his sticky hands, vaguely disgusted at how quickly the unnatural purple liquid was setting up as he tried not to leave too many shreds of paper clinging to his fingers. 

McKay was painfully aware of the minutes ticking away, and the promise he'd made to John that he'd be ready in an hour. Checking his watch, he could see that time was almost up. He was no closer to solving the relevant conundrum than he was before, and now he was a distracted, irritated mess to boot. 

“If I've told her once, I've told her a thousand times!” Rodney snarled, smacking the floor in helpless frustration, his palm picking up a thin layer of fine, ten-thousand-year-old grit. “One of these days she's going to end up destroying a piece of sensitive equipment with that damn soda!” 

McKay straightened from his slouched position so quickly his head rocked back as if someone had slapped him. “Of course!” He exclaimed, anger and frustraton forgotten. Leaning forward, Rodney pulled the crystals he needed from the drawer without hesitation, clambered to his feet and dropped them into the waiting slots in the holographic system, sliding the drawer home with a distinct click. With a few keystrokes on his laptop he started to upload the program he'd prepared, then turned back to face the bottom drawer Caputo and Gilmartin had toiled so hard on that day. 

With a serene smile and a wicked gleam in his eye, Rodney picked up the can of soda. Holding it at arm's length, he poured its contents all over the sensor and monitoring systems, then dropped the can itself on top. The hollow metallic clink was immediately followed by the sizzle and pop of frying components and the sickly sweet odor of burning sugar. He stepped back around the column when crystals started to fracture, some exploding with a puff of acrid smoke, leaving scorch marks in the drawer and up the wall behind it. 

Still grinning, McKay watched as the lights in the Maintenance Corridor dimmed, then brightened again as power was automatically re-routed away from the destruction happening in the lower bin, soon enough to keep the entire room from being affected, but not in time to save the soda-filled drawer from disaster. Waiting another minute to ensure that any overheated crystals waiting to detonate had done so, Rodney stepped back around the plinth to observe the damage. 

It was a thing of beauty. Charred and blasted, the blackened drawer full of crystal shards and caramelized grape soda was a complete write-off. Even if someone were to order a full investigation, it would be impossible to determine that crystals had been removed from that mess.

And who would blame Rodney for single-handedly bringing down Atlantis' internal sensors? No one. He had simply come down here to inspect completed work before signing off on it. It wasn't his fault one of the techs had left a booby trap.

He checked on the hologram program to make sure it was working as it should. Of course it was, and right on time, too, he noted as he checked his watch again. With a sigh of pure satisfaction, McKay packed up his laptop then surveyed the room before turning to leave, pleased with this night's work.

“Ah, Caputo,” he murmured fondly as he turned on his flashlight and palmed the door open, “once I'm done raking you over the coals, I'm recommending you for a promotion.”


	3. Catch and Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making sure the preliminary groundwork has been laid, John sets out to free Todd. 
> 
> Easier said than done, when unexpected details threaten to sabotage his plan before – and after – it's begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter at the same time I was attempting to write something original for Camp Nanowrimo. Since I'm posting Chapter 3 on July 27th, and my Camp Nanowrimo story is only a little more than halfway to the goal I set for myself, it's painfully-clear which took precedent. 
> 
> I blame Todd and John. The fact of the matter is, the boys just wouldn't leave me alone until I got it done. So here it is.
> 
> I took liberties with Atlantis again, and military schedules. Nothing terribly outrageous, and I think it all hangs together well and sounds plausible, which is really all that matters. Right? ;)
> 
> There's also a little bit of violence in this chapter. Although I don't think it's extreme enough to warrant a warning flag, I wanted to make anyone who might be concerned about it aware of its existence.
> 
> Thanks go out yet again to The Spawn, my Alpha-daughter who is my Beta-daughter. Sometimes we don't agree on grammatical points, so any grammatical errors are mine, since she did her best to correct me.

The guard roster for the brig on Atlantis was usually sparsely-populated, and especially so on the graveyard shift. With the City's complement of dedicated scientists, technicians, and military, there wasn't much call for a large staff since the place was hardly used. Even with their special guest in-residence and intermittent power fluctuations, tonight was no exception. The Marines on-duty were confident in their ability to maintain order without additional staffing. 

Thanks to Colonel Sheppard. 

A minor adjustment made earlier in the day to his second-in-command's schedule, and the extra MP's who were supposed to show up found they suddenly had the evening free. Just as Sheppard predicted, no one was crazy enough to complain. What enlisted man is going to bring himself to his commanding officer's attention by actually volunteering to stand guard at Balls A.M. in an all-but-empty brig? That unfortunate fool would find himself doing nothing but, for the rest of his tour. 

John crouched patiently in the shadows near the corridor of holding cells. He watched the overhead lights flicker once in a while as he waited for the guard standing at-ease in front of the closest door to make his rounds. Just another ten minutes, according to his watch. Once the solitary blond soldier left his post, the area would be devoid of military personnel for about fifteen minutes, giving Sheppard what he hoped was plenty of time to get in, grab the wraith, and get out unnoticed. 

While he waited, Sheppard mentally ran down his checklist, and amazingly found that he was on top of things. Rodney was taking care of the internal sensors and surveillance equipment - and the hologram. John couldn't help but grin. It was a stroke of genius on McKay's part, coming up with that idea. That kind of thinking was why the scientist was a permanent and valued member of his team. For all that he complained like a bitch sometimes, when the chips were down McKay could always be counted on to pull something amazing out of thin air. 

The Colonel also had a promising conversation with Dr. Keller. She was probably already defrosting some of the wraith parts that were stored in the freezer in the Medical Bay. She assured him a styrofoam container would be sitting just inside the door waiting for him when he stopped by to pick it up. John had always liked Jennifer, and he suspected she had a soft spot for their resident Wraith. Even so, he was pleasantly surprised when she'd not simply jumped, but practically leapt on-board by offering to help almost before he'd finished explaining what he needed, and why.

The hardest sell, by far, had been Teyla and Ronon. John had been reluctant to even approach them, and he wouldn't have if their roles weren't so pivotal to the success of this covert operation. Having been born and raised in the Pegasus Galaxy, they'd lived their entire lives under constant threat of Wraith attack, and had both been directly impacted in terrible ways by the Wraith themselves. They had no love for the species, and he knew it couldn't have been easy for either of them when John asked them to help him free the captive. 

Sheppard had the good grace to look apologetic once he'd made his plea in Teyla's makeshift dojo, where he'd found the pair stacking mats and re-hanging weapons that had been shaken loose during the earlier conflict. He was simultaneously relieved to have found them together so he'd only have to do this once, and nervous that if one of them balked the other would, too, and he'd have no time to address the issue with each one separately. After a long, awkward pause, Teyla had finally nodded. She eyed John as though trying to discern whether he was in his right mind or not, even as she cautiously agreed to assist. 

Ronon just paced back and forth with his hands clenched at his sides, snorting and huffing like an angry bull. He stopped to glare accusingly at Sheppard at the end of each pass, making John feel worse than he already did about trying to include the Satedan. The former Runner finally stopped right in front of Sheppard, overshadowing him. Without lifting his chin, John canted his eyes up at the taller man expectantly. “I don't want anything to do with this,” Ronon practically growled, “but I'll give you the damn clothes. I don't wear them anyway.” He brushed past Sheppard's shoulder without another word as he left the room, and John sensed he'd probably damaged that friendship beyond repair.

With a regretful sigh, the Colonel checked his watch again. It was almost time. Even as he glanced up, the soldier came to attention, sheathed his P90, then disappeared down the corridor to make his rounds. Sheppard could hear him checking each cell as he went. 

'Making rounds' was tedious business on a good day, but especially so late at night in an empty brig. Thankfully, the military had a procedure for everything and demanded thoroughness, so the MP was required to take his time and go through all the motions, regardless of the low-risk situation. A circuit of the entire Security Area, with no unusual incidents, took roughly fifteen to eighteen minutes. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the guard completed his door-rattling ritual and moved on to the next section, the low thud of boots dying away as he left the hallway. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, Sheppard stepped out of his hiding place. Just as he did, the lights flickered and dimmed to almost nothing for several long seconds before brightening again. He froze in place and listened intently for the guard's return. Sheppard had scarcely been listening to Evan during their afternoon briefing, his mind a jumble of half-formed plans, and he was unable to recall what his Second had told him the procedure would be in case of power loss in the brig. When the corridor remained quiet, John released the breath he'd been holding and inched his way forward again until he stood outside the wraith's cell.

The Colonel automatically reached for the keypad, but stopped himself inches from pressing the first button when he realized that there would be a record of it. His fingers and toes tingled, as it sank in how close he'd come to making a serious misstep. Only four people possessed the current code for this door, Lorne, Woolsey, the guard on-duty, and himself. A new code would be issued in the morning at shift-change. With odds like that, it wouldn't take long to decipher who let the wraith out, if push came to shove. 

Taking a deep breath, John let it out in a long, measured exhalation, trying to shake off the effects of the adrenaline that was coursing through him. He stepped back and settled hands on hips as he scrutinized the door and jamb, trying to remember where the manual release was located. He ended up having to stretch up to his full height and then some, to reach the cleverly-concealed lever near the top of the jamb and managed to tip it out on the third try. Hooking his finger around it, he hung suspended on tiptoe, bracing his left hand against the other jamb to keep himself from wobbling while he waited for the next flicker of lights. The power had to be down for the manual release to work at all. Sheppard hoped that the momentary outages this section of Atlantis was experiencing would be enough to allow the fail-safe system to operate. 

Pressed flat against the door, John also prayed that the next blackout didn't take too long in coming. As near as he could estimate, he'd already used almost a third of his allotted time-frame to get this far. Besides not being sure he could maintain this position for a protracted period of time, John had no idea what he could possibly say to the guard that wouldn't sound crazy or suspicious, if by some off-chance he overstayed his welcome. 

The muscles in Sheppard's extended arm and shoulder ached like a rotten tooth, and his calves burned as the seconds ticked away into minutes. A drop of sweat fell from his hair onto his forehead, and John could feel it as it trickled past his eyebrow and down the sensitive flesh at the edge of his eye socket. He knew where it was heading and tried to guide it by tilting his head, but stretched out against the door his movements were severely curtailed. It ran into his eye before he could blink it away, and he hissed and squeezed his eyes shut reflexively as the salt stung. He desperately tried to force them open again, even as his autonomic nervous system was stubbornly determined to protect his eyesight by keeping them closed. Fearful that he might be missing his opportunity while he was struggling to see, John finally managed to crack his unaffected eye open just in time to witness the corridor being plunged into darkness. 

Exhausted muscles screamed in protest as he pulled down hard on the lever. At the same instant the lights blazed to life again, but the infinitesimal disruption in power was enough, and John heard a small click as the lever recoiled back into the jamb and the door mechanism released. 

Cradling his arm against his chest, John checked his watch as he waited for the ache to subside. He had seven minutes left before the guard returned. 

When his arm stopped tingling and he could feel his fingers again, Sheppard gently laid his hands against the door, a slight frown marring his already-tense features. If he had ever heard anyone speaking to someone the way he'd laid into Todd today, they'd have been picking up their teeth off the ground because he'd have stepped in and decked the bastard. But the wraith had sat there, quietly taking it all in – believing him, as John did his best to destroy anything that might have been between them. 

After his little meltdown this afternoon, John wondered what he could possibly say to Todd that would make it better. Compressing his lips to a thin line, John pushed the door open, figuring he'd wing it like he always did. He just hoped the wraith would listen to him.

He barely had time to register that Todd was both sitting at the table and waiting for him right behind the door, before an immensely-strong black-nailed green hand reached for him and wrapped itself around his throat. Reeling and off-balance, John was pulled into the interrogation room and shoved back against the wall. 

“What games are you playing with me?” The wraith bared his dangerously-sharp teeth and snarled in Sheppard's face as he tightened his grip on the human's neck. Sheppard clawed at Todd's fingers, desperately struggling for breath as the alien started dragging him up the wall. “You've made your position clear. Why do you continue to torment me?”

John's legs trembled as he was forced on tiptoes again. “Please,” he managed to croak, wide, panicked eyes meeting the wraith's angry ones as black spots blossomed in his field of vision. Even as he tried to focus, Todd's features darkened to shades of grey and black. Sheppard's head lolled, and he could feel himself losing consciousness, when suddenly the hand was gone. He pitched forward, drawing a noisy, rattling breath deep into his oxygen-starved lungs as he blindly groped for something to break his fall. An unseen hand, possibly the same one that had threatened him a moment before, grasped his shoulder and roughly pushed him upright. His back to the wall again, Sheppard gratefully leaned against the grip holding him steady while he gasped for breath and waited for his vision to clear. 

“I thought you were done with me,” Todd hissed angrily, giving John's shoulder an impatient shake, “Why are you here?”

Sheppard blinked up at the furious wraith and opened his mouth to try and explain, only nothing came out. He reached up and tentatively grazed his neck with careful fingers, squeezing his eyes shut at the unexpectedly-acute pain. He wouldn't be surprised if there were bruises tomorrow. Swallowing reflexively against the soreness, he opened his eyes and glanced up at Todd again. The wraith was fixedly watching him touch his throat with an unguarded expression akin to hunger. Golden cat's eyes flicked to meet his, then the alien looked away. 

He left Sheppard to recover against the wall and slowly circled the table in the center of the room, passing his hand back and forth through the seemingly-solid figure seated there, before turning to glare meaningfully at the human. The tilt of his head and the question in his eyes expressing _What. The. Fuck._ so eloquently – so perfectly, it struck John as comical and he almost burst out laughing. Under different circumstances, he might have. He and the wraith shared a surprisingly similar sense of humor, and John was certain he would have been able to explain the Earth vernacular of WTF in a way that Todd could appreciate. 

As it was, he didn't dare. He didn't want the wraith to think he was laughing at him when he wasn't. There had been enough of that already today, and it had been cruel. At the moment he wasn't sure he would survive if he so much as smirked, so he clamped his lips together tightly and managed to keep it all inside, the tender muscles of his throat taking the brunt of the struggle. 

Todd narrowed his eyes suspiciously and returned to John, invading his space as he loomed over him. “Is this some sort of joke, human? Do you think this is amusing?”

This close to the alien, Sheppard couldn't help but feel the subtle and inexplicable pull of the brother-bond between them, and wondered if that was what had driven him to attempt this crazy rescue in the first place. _No_ , he asserted without hesitation, there was a lot more to it than that. He gazed unflinchingly up at the monster before him. His monster. The angry, confused monster he didn't want to hurt anymore than he already had. 

John shook his head and swallowed hard, the dark laughter dying away, unexpressed. “No,” he managed to rasp after a couple of tries. “Not a joke. The hologram is so no one will raise an alarm before they come looking for you in the morning.”

“Where am I going, that I'll need a hologram to replace me?” The wraith asked, still cautious, but curious as well. Was Sheppard here to help him, after all? Why would he do that, after making it abundantly clear the wraith was little more to him than dirt to be shaken from his boots?

“You're coming with me – I hope,” John replied, looking at his watch, then wishing he hadn't. They were running out of time.

Todd's sensitive nose immediately detected the change in Sheppard's scent which indicated his increasing anxiety. The human glanced quickly toward the open portal, then back at him, taking a step closer and reaching for his grey-clad arm. The wraith took a step back, easily evading Sheppard's grasp. “Why should I trust you?” 

John paused, the closed, arrogant expression on the alien's face bringing him up short. A frown creased his brow as he stepped up, almost toe-to-toe with the wraith. “Damn it, Todd. We don't have time for this,” he snarled, doing a fair impression of a wraith, himself. “You don't have to trust me, but you do need to come with me. Now. If you want to fight about it, we can do it later.”

As usual, Todd was impressed with Sheppard's bravado; and knew that for the sake of escaping before the absent Marine returned, he should - temporarily at least - suspend his misgivings about trusting the human. He wasn't about to do that - but like it or not, the Colonel made sense. He was clearly the lesser of two evils when compared to being at the mercy of his government. Todd was certain the agency which had requested the pleasure of his company would have no compunction at all about incarcerating him, and doing other, far-less-pleasant things to him if they got their hands on him. At least the human had come back to get him out of the cell, which was more than he had expected. Where they were going from here, the wraith had no idea; but he decided that for the moment, he was willing to follow.

He nodded reluctantly, a small movement, watching Sheppard's face closely for any signs of slyness or duplicity. The human looked nothing but relieved at the wraith's acquiescence and moved quietly to the doorway, checking his watch again, before peering around the corner and down the hall.

After making sure they still had the corridor to themselves, John glanced over his shoulder and made deliberate eye contact with Todd, indicating with hand signals that they were going to move out in... three, two, one. As soon as they both cleared the room, Sheppard turned and slid the armored door shut behind them, giving it an extra tug to make sure the locking mechanism was re-engaged. This time, he did grab Todd's arm, quickly pulling the wraith deep into the shadows where he'd waited earlier. John was grateful the alien had allowed himself to be moved so easily, for no sooner had they hidden themselves than the booted footfalls of the returning soldier could be heard reverberating against the tiles. 

Two pairs of eyes surreptitiously watched as the MP unsheathed his P90 and clicked off the safety, punched the code into the keypad by Todd's vacated quarters, and pulled the door open to check on the prisoner. Without missing a beat, he closed and locked it again, having ascertained that the wraith was meditating quietly at the table, and resumed his at-ease position in front of the cell.

John smiled triumphantly up at the wraith, who was hard-pressed not to grin back. The human was too tempting for his own good, but Todd was wary – on his guard and wondering what Sheppard's game was this time. Instead, he took a step back and stretched out his arm, indicating that the human should precede him. 

Unable to get even a quiver of a response from the alien after the success of their daring escape, John felt the smile fade from his lips. Heaving a resigned sigh, he stepped past the wraith and quietly started down the darkened corridor, leading the way back toward his quarters. It was the safest place he could think of for them to hide out, and hopefully catch a few hours of desperately-needed shut-eye before the time came to implement the next step in his plan. Todd moved so silently Sheppard couldn't hear him, but John could sense the other's unsettling presence as he followed close behind. 

While John understood that almost being throttled into unconsciousness by the alien meant Todd wasn't about to let him off-the-hook easily, Sheppard had hoped a jailbreak would have earned him at least a few brownie points with the wraith.

Unfortunately, Wraith apparently didn't keep track of brownie points.


	4. Clearing the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Colonel Sheppard and Todd make their way through the abandoned sections of Atlantis, unresolved feelings of anger and betrayal rise to the surface to threaten the fragile truce between them. Will they be able to work things out, or has John done too much damage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this chapter a couple of months ago, the whole scenario between John and Todd presenting itself to me so clearly, I just had to go with it. My daughter and I had just made a trip home at the end of May to visit my father on the East Coast, and the sound of the ocean at night as it hit the seawall really inspired me. 
> 
> No real technical challenges in this one. It's more an exploration of the strange and complex relationship between one wraith and one human. Lots of head canon.
> 
> As usual my thanks go to The Spawn for taking her Beta responsibilities seriously.

The unlikely pair carefully picked their way through the darkened, rubble-strewn corridors on their circuitous route through the badly-damaged City, as they made their way toward the Colonel's quarters. Sheppard's flashlight and the wraith's superior night vision helped them avoid the worst of the pitfalls, although the fugitives' need to avoid the more habitable - and thus inhabited - parts of Atlantis, made for slow-going.

Other than the occasional terse exclamation from one of them to warn the other of a potential hazard, they traversed the dark halls and stairwells in relative silence. While they did, Todd pondered all that he had experienced since Atlantis had safely landed on Earth that morning. Most significantly, he wondered about the complete turnaround in Sheppard's behavior. Which John Sheppard was the real one? The one who came back and helped him escape the confines of his cage, or the human who had cut him down in the bluntest, most damaging way possible? Was he being toyed with again before an even worse betrayal, or was he being rescued? Without breaking his promise to Sheppard and plucking the information he sought directly from the human's head, Todd was mystified as to his companion's true feelings. 

Even the pheromonal clues he was picking up weren't helping, since Sheppard was vascillating between the adrenaline-spikes of his species' fight-or-flight response, and the musk of a man who has been working too hard for too long. While Todd found Sheppard's own particular aroma - enticing, to say the least - it did nothing to enhance the wraith's understanding.

Todd knew this was how humans dealt with each other: head-blind and uncertain as to whether what they were being told was the truth or not. That wasn't to say that Wraith weren't capable of deceit and keeping their true intentions hidden from each other. On the contrary, they were masters of the art. His own unworthy Second had managed to incite a mutiny right under his nose without him knowing until it was almost too late, culminating in Todd barely escaping from his own Hive with his life. 

He'd just never been confronted with a _human_ he couldn't read, especially since the only thing keeping him from doing so was his promise not to. Why, he wondered, was he adhering to a vow he'd made to a human who might prove to be almost as untrustworthy as his Second-in-Command, when his very existence might hang in the balance. Because, like the fool he was when it came to John Sheppard, Todd clung to the faint hope that he'd overlooked something; that there were pieces to this puzzle he didn't have access to yet which would explain Sheppard's earlier outburst and vindicate his human Brother. He didn't want to have broken his word if John later proved blameless. Unfortunately, the real tragedy was that whatever Sheppard might tell him, the wraith was concerned he would likely doubt. He wondered how they were supposed to come back from this, if he was already uncertain he could believe what John hadn't even said yet. 

The whole situation angered and bewildered the wraith, and Todd didn't like being confused. Anger was simpler.

The wraith was quietly seething by the time they emerged from a particularly treacherous tunnel into a long, moonlit gallery. A solid wall of windows made up of sliding panels looked out onto a generous walkway, and built-in benches overlooked the dark ocean. This section of Atlantis was little-travelled even when the City was fully-functional. If used at all, it was as a pass-through from one populated area to another. As such, it was empty, save for a fine layer of grit and a few small chunks of material dislodged from the high, vaulted ceiling. 

John paused in the pool of silver moonlight, appreciating the irony of one of the most desolate areas of Atlantis taking so little damage. He turned and grinned at his companion, wanting to share the humor of the situation, but the wraith hung back in the darkness. Sheppard's smile faltered as he met Todd's eyes, when he realized what was staring back at him from the shadows. The alien looked like he'd reached the frayed edge of some sort of control, and John was suddenly very aware of the fact that he wasn't sure what might set the wraith off.

A frisson of animal terror ran up Sheppard's spine, and he found himself fighting his instinctive response to freeze in place like a rabbit waiting for the predator to overlook him. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look away, moving slowly toward one of the sliding doors onto the deck as casually as possible, as if they both weren't fully-aware of his fear. The wraith followed, not quite stalking him, but only just. By the time John reached for the handle on the slider, his palms were sweating. 

“I need to rest for a couple of minutes,” John announced over his shoulder a little too loudly, his voice echoing in the cavernous chamber. He flipped the lock and pulled on the handle, but the door didn't budge. Centuries of neglect had left it frozen in place.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled, alerting him to the wraith's presence behind him. Warm breath on his neck almost made him jump as a pale, clawed hand reached around him to grasp the handle above where his rested. They were close enough that Sheppard could feel the powerfully-muscled arm tense. A quick tug, and the door slid back roughly, scraping and bumping along the years of accumulated sand and grit embedded in the track.

A wave of cold, damp, salt-laden ocean air washed over them, and they instinctively inhaled deeply in tandem, drawing fresh air into lungs that had been laboring in enclosed halls full of ancient dust for over an hour. John could feel the brush of the wraith's expanding chest against his back, and he frowned in consternation when his cock twitched in response.

Damn Wraith.

“Are we going outside, or are we going to stand here all night?” The low rumble of Todd's voice and the whisper of warm breath in his ear didn't help matters any, but at least the shiver that wracked John's body broke the spell. Able to move and think again, Sheppard stepped away from the alien and out onto the windswept deck.

The wraith took a moment to compose himself before following. As angry as he was, and as much as he felt the need to be on his guard against him, their proximity and Sheppard's nascent desire almost unravelled Todd's resolve to keep himself aloof from the maddening, frustrating human. The wraith couldn't help it if fear-with-a-lust-chaser was his favorite John Sheppard flavor. For a dizzying moment he had been ready to forgive the human for everything he'd said, anything he'd done, all the pain he'd caused – all for a few seconds of being able to stand so close to Sheppard he could almost taste him. 

Exasperated with himself for almost giving in, Todd remorselessly pulled himself together. For his own survival, not to mention his sanity, he knew he could no longer just accept at face-value the meager emotional rations John had been doling out since the beginning. Was there genuine feeling behind the smiles, the nods, the lingering eye contact - all the small signs that the wraith had been encouraged to interpret as acceptance and understanding? Without a deeper understanding of the human's motives, he couldn't be sure. 

For Sheppard's sake, he had willingly provided intel, Ancient technology, and scientific knowledge when the humans needed it. To show their gratitude, the humans of Atlantis had systematically-destroyed a number of hive ships and countless Wraith. While he tried to watch out for his fellow-Wraiths' best interests when dealing with Sheppard, as he knew John was doing for the humans, it still seemed that whenever Todd encountered the Lanteans it was almost a guarantee that he would end up with the short end of the stick. It made him cold inside to contemplate that Sheppard may have been deceiving him for years. 

And when the wraith needed assistance he turned to the one human in two galaxies whom he thought might listen to him before opening fire. The one he had called 'Brother.' In dire straits, facing an unknown and uncertain future on an alien world, with the very real possibility of interminable captivity looming before him, Todd once again placed his trust in Sheppard, asking for help. And what did John do? He'd stabbed him in the back.

No, worse.

He'd stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife.

As it stood now, Todd couldn't trust him. That much was clear. If there was anything at all between them that Sheppard valued, then he'd better exonerate himself – and soon. If, in truth, Sheppard valued nothing, Todd needed to know that as well. If that was the case, then, as John was fond of saying, _All bets are off._

Steeling himself for the confrontation that needed to happen regardless of the outcome, the wraith strode purposefully toward the waiting human.

John stood by the rail, intently watched the ocean fling itself again and again, against the City's base far below. Weary and apprehensive, and desperately trying to get his body back under control, he allowed himself to be lulled by the foamy whitecaps and the soft, hypnotic susurration of the waves. 

He felt, rather than saw, Todd join him. The tension in the air ratcheted up to almost unbearable levels as soon as the wraith stepped out onto the balcony. Out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard could see the alien's fingers slide around the rail very close to his own. He sensed that Todd was considering him, waiting for him to acknowledge the other's presence, but the tightly-gripping hand was the only part of the wraith he felt he could face at the moment. 

In a perfect world, this would be the part where they just relaxed for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company, the fresh air, and the night-darkened ocean before moving on. Instead, a relationship which had become very important to John was in jeopardy because he'd been a supreme asshole, and now Todd was waiting for an explanation. Sheppard knew this was it. 

In a perfect world, he'd know what to say. 

He had heard the idiom, _the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife_ countless times in his life, but John realized he had never truly encountered its reality before tonight. He was almost choking as he tried to draw breath against the pressure of Todd's anger – or maybe it was just his throat swelling from the wraith's earlier assault – he couldn't be sure. Either way, between that and the oppressive weight of the wraith's gaze practically drilling into his cheekbone, Sheppard finally couldn't stand it any longer. Even though he wasn't sure what was going to come out of his mouth, John felt compelled to speak. Still staring straight ahead, he murmured, “Todd...”

At the same moment, the wraith uttered, “Sheppard.”

Both stopped. 

Startled, John looked over, finally meeting Todd's heavy-lidded gaze. The guarded expression on the wraith's face was unreadable. “You go.”

“Very well.” Todd nodded cordially. He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he gave Sheppard the once-over, considering him with that covetous expression that always set John's pulse racing. At this point, though, he was almost afraid to wonder which appetite the wraith was sizing him up for. This was the Todd of five minutes before Sheppard was thrown into the cell next to his - before they met, before John named him. This wraith was mistrustful of humans, and with good reason. 

Sheppard gripped the icy rail tighter as he braced himself in anticipation of whatever the furious wraith was about to throw at him. Instead, Todd met his gaze squarely and lifted his chin slightly in inquiry, asking _'Why'_ in such a quiet, reasonable tone it caught John completely off-guard. 

“Why?” Sheppard blinked in confusion as he repeated the wraith's question. “Why, what? How am I supposed to answer that?”

Todd eyed him impassively. “I could make this easier for you.”

John held up a placating hand when he realized what Todd meant by that. “No. Uh – thank you, but no.”

“Why can you not just answer the question, then?” The wraith tilted his head, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.

Sheppard looked up at Todd, alarmed. This was already not going well and they'd barely begun. He desperately wanted to give the wraith a good answer – the right answer – but he didn't know how the hell he was supposed to do that when he couldn't even parse the question. For it's seeming simplicity, in reality it was far too complex to be encapsulated easily, and John felt unequal to the task with so much at stake. 

With a sigh, Sheppard admitted defeat. “Todd, I don't know how to answer the question. It's too vague. What are you looking for?” He spread his hand wide, then let it fall back limply against his leg. “Why did I say the things I did? Why did I come back for you? Why do I keep trying to help you if I hate you? Why am I such an idiot?”

“Yes.”

 _Oh great. All of the above._ Sheppard wondered briefly if he'd just dug his own grave.

Casting his vision out of the water again, John collected his scattered thoughts. “As soon as I found out the IOA was scheduled to take you, I knew you were totally screwed,” he finally began. Sheppard knew he had one shot at this – just one, and he didn't even want to consider what might happen if he blew it. “I'm only a military officer. The IOA is an agency of my government. I have no say in their affairs. In fact, it's my duty to see their orders are carried out.” 

He caught and held Todd's gaze, determined to try and make him understand. Except for pale, wind-tossed locks of hair shifting back and forth across broad shoulders in the incessant sea breeze, and a pair of glittering, intelligent eyes studying him, the wraith might have been a statue, he stood so still by Sheppard's side. After a moment of unnerving silence John realized he wasn't going to get a response from the alien. No human social cues for John Sheppard, to let him know he'd been heard and understood. 

Forging on unacknowledged, John licked his lips nervously, and continued. “I knew I had no power to keep you safe, but I tried anyway. I went to Woolsey and argued for him to protect you. I wanted him to put them off, even for a little while 'til we could figure something out.” Sheppard could feel his blood starting to boil again, his nervousness quickly evaporating in the heat of his anger, as he recalled his singularly-frustrating conversation with Atlantis' commander. “He's their creature, though. He had already handed you over without so much as a whimper of protest.” 

John started pacing the deck, much as he had in Woolsey's office, still obviously riled-up about the whole situation. “I was so angry with Woolsey and the IOA, and my own inability to do anything to stop them, I couldn't see straight. All I could think about was the fact that you were sitting in that hole, waiting for me to get you out.” Sheppard scrubbed his fingers through his hair as he paused, wild-eyed, in front of the wraith. “I knew you were counting on me – knew what the IOA was going to do with you once they took you into custody - and I couldn't do jack shit. I felt so freaking... helpless.”

Todd remained by the rail, watching his companion grow more and more agitated as he related what had happened. John's ire washed over him, incredibly intense and similar to what the human had unleashed on him earlier in the day. It was clear in the re-telling that Sheppard's wrath wasn't directed at him at all, but at circumstances beyond his control when the human had been trying to find a way to protect him. From Sheppard's impassioned story and the attendant emotions rising unbidden to accompany it, the wraith could easily-discern that John was telling the truth. It definitely accounted for his tempestuous rage of earlier. 

Relief washed over the wraith, and Todd felt some of his own anger drain away as a surge of hope replaced it. If Sheppard could acquit himself of the things he'd _said_ as succinctly as he'd accounted for his anger, the wraith felt certain forgiveness would become an option. He wanted to put this behind them, but he needed to be sure he could trust the human again. With effort, he held himself aloof and bided his time.

Returning to the wraith's side, John gripped the rail again. He clung to it in spite of the ache that started almost immediately in his chilled fingers, trying to will the cold metal to help cool his temper. He glanced up at the inscrutable alien, then looked away, ashamed. He wasn't proud of what he'd done, and this part least of all, but Sheppard knew Todd needed to hear it. “It was a mistake to go and see you when I was so worked up like that, but I had to make you understand that I couldn't help you – that you were on your own. I couldn't live with the idea that you'd keep waiting for me – keep hoping – even when they took you away, even when they started experimenting on you – because I know what you're like. You've always had way too much faith in me.” 

Sheppard faltered to a stop, uncertain how to proceed. Looking sideways at the wraith again, he saw that he was being scrutinized. Todd finally gave him a nod - of encouragement, he supposed. Swallowing hard, John continued. “Then you asked me for help anyway, and in that moment I knew what a weak coward I was, and I knew it was going to get you killed. I needed to make you hate me as much as I hated myself for being so useless, so I tried to smash what I couldn't save. I tried to tear it all apart so you'd go down cursing my name like I thought I deserved for failing you.”

John looked down, miserable. “It was all lies, Todd - all the shit I spouted at you - just to drive you away. I'm so sorry. I had no idea I'd be so successful. It was terrible watching you take it in and believe me without question.” 

Without another word, Todd walked away from Sheppard and sat down on the nearest bench. Leaning forward, the wraith placed his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead against his palms, claws buried in thick, tangled tresses turned ghostly-white in the moonlight. He sat quiet and unmoving for several long minutes, and John started to grow concerned. He couldn't remember when he'd seen the wraith look so - human. 

It took every ounce of strength the wraith possessed not to tackle Sheppard to the deck right then and there. _It had all been lies. John hadn't meant any of the things he'd said in anger._ John had verbally brutalized him. He'd torn apart and made him doubt all the things that the wraith had valued about their relationship, and he hadn't meant any of it. Todd had no doubt that the human spoke the truth now, from the wretched expression on Sheppard's face to the distress he could pick up from the other's scent. The wraith wasn't sure if he should be relieved or furious, whether he wanted to bring the human down to kill him or kiss him, so he thought it best to just sit quietly until the temptation subsided. 

When he thought he could speak again without growling, he sat up and regarded John wearily. “Of course I believed you. You were so angry. I could feel it coming off you in waves. I could smell it, as I did just now when you recalled it. Now, I understand the reason behind your rage. Earlier, I had no choice but to believe it was aimed at me, and that you meant what you were saying.”

“I know 'sorry' doesn't make it better, but I am – sorry, that is.” John approached Todd cautiously and sat next to him on the bench, looking as genuinely distressed as he smelled.

“I can see that,” Todd murmured, almost gently. Never had a human he was interested in put him through so much. Todd considered the dark-haired man sitting next to him, and a small smile stretched one corner of his mouth, almost against his will. Never had he felt such intense emotions for a human before. Was it the pull of the brother-bond, or something more? As far as the wraith was concerned, it didn't matter. It was real, either way. If only he could be certain it was the same for Sheppard. “What made you come back?”

“I could barely function after I walked away. I felt like I'd just turned my back on Rodney, or Teyla, or Ronon – and I'd never do that to any of them.” John shifted on the bench, angling himself so he could see the wraith better. He slid back a little after their knees inadvertently brushed, but not too far, leaving less than an inch of space and two layers of thin fabric between them.

“Back when you and I were running from the Genii and you weren't sure you were going to make it, I told you that no one gets left behind.” Sheppard looked away, lips tightening as painful memories of others he hadn't been able to save rose unexpectedly to the surface, threatening to leave him speechless. After a few moments he met Todd's eyes again, resolute. “I've gotten myself into more trouble by trying to adhere to that code of ethics, but I live by it whether it's convenient or not. I left you behind when I walked out of that cell, and I realized I just I couldn't do that - not after I'd already included you in the group of people I had promised I'd go back for.”

The other corner of Todd's mouth threatened to go up, too, as he allowed John's words to sink in. He rated at least as highly as Sheppard's human companions, that was something. The wraith regarded the human's profile as Sheppard packed a memory away while he watched the distant whitecaps march across the sea toward the City. Unobserved, Todd's gaze lingered on John's lips, his stubbled cheek, the shadow of a bruise starting on his throat where the wraith had grabbed him. Todd ached to run gentle fingers over the darkening flesh, to lean in and lick; to taste. 

Keeping his distance by sheer force-of-will, the wraith reminded himself that he was supposed to be testing the human's intentions before allowing himself to be drawn in again. Todd needed something to catch John off-guard again, like before. He knew the human well enough to know that the truth sometimes slipped out when Sheppard was put on-the-spot, so the wraith went on the attack. Assuming a cold, cynical expression, Todd shattered John's reverie with a sudden snarl. “So, let me see if I understand you correctly: you tried to destroy everything between us because you felt helpless, then you felt guilty because you walked away? It sounds to me like you're trying to assuage your own conscience with some sort of grand gesture.”

Sheppard's head jerked back, surprised by Todd's outburst. He'd been so certain the wraith had understood. He thought they were on the mend, and now this. He wasn't sure if Todd was deliberately misunderstanding or if it was a genuine reaction, but it was suddenly too much for John to take after an entire evening of walking on eggshells. “Damn it, Todd. No!” John snapped, angry and defensive. “I'm trying to tell you that if you didn't mean so damn much to me, I wouldn't have bothered! I never would have come to see you in the first place because it wouldn't have mattered to me whether you were rotting in a cell or not. You just never would have seen me again, and the IOA would have come and taken you away, and my life would have gone on.”

John stopped, his eyes flicking to meet the wraith's uncertainly as his cheeks burned in the chilly night air. What he'd just said hung in the air between them, and Sheppard wasn't sure what to do with it. He had just admitted, out loud, to Todd, that the wraith meant... a lot to him. That was a pretty gay little declaration of... something.

The moment stretched to the point of awkwardness, both parties stunned to silence; Sheppard from embarrassment and Todd from exaltation. The wraith recovered first, stuffing down the triumphant gloating before he trusted himself to speak. “I see,” he finally murmured, mask of indifference firmly in place, “I misunderstood. My sincerest apologies.” 

Sheppard nodded, grateful that Todd was giving him a way to save face. “No problem.” He stood and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, suddenly as standoffish as he usually was when dealing with the wraith. “We should probably get going,” he said, checking his watch as he headed across the balcony. 

Todd sighed wistfully, watching the human backpedal away from him again. He let Sheppard go – for the moment. He could tell it had been difficult for John to open up to him as much as he had tonight, and Todd didn't want to push the human too far, too fast. Like any hunter worth his salt, the wraith understood that patience would be rewarded. 

A deceptively-mild smile tugged at the alien's lips as he rose from the bench. Now that he was certain there were actual emotions behind the lust Sheppard felt for him – that on some level, feelings were mutual - Todd knew it was just a matter of time before he brought down his quarry. The hunt was back on, and John Sheppard was the prize. 

Following Sheppard to the door, Todd almost fell over him when the human suddenly stopped. John looked up over his shoulder and met the wraith's inquisitive gaze. “So, we're good. Right?”

“Yes, John. All is forgiven. Just promise me you will never do something like that again.”

Visibly relieved, Sheppard nodded. “I promise.”

After successfully wrestling the slider closed and locking it again, a much more companionable silence settled over the pair as they crossed the remainder of the gallery and were swallowed up by the shadows of the other tunnel. 

A few moments later, John's voice could be heard echoing back through the empty chamber they'd just vacated. “Hey, Todd.”

“Yes, John Sheppard?”

“What did you mean when you said you could smell my anger?”

The wraith's chuckle reverberated off the vaulted ceiling as their footsteps faded down the hall.


	5. Ducks in a Row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drs. Keller and McKay, two of the four people Colonel Sheppard has involved in his plan to free Todd, physically and mentally prepare for the following morning. Trying to make sure they have their ducks in a row, Jennifer packs a box of Wraith, and Rodney has trouble sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Submitted for your consideration, some character and plot development featuring Rodney and Jennifer. 
> 
> I wanted to write about the Wraith bits that kept being referenced, and Dr. Keller was more than happy to oblige. 
> 
> Rodney is always a pleasure to write - and mess with, just a little. He had some insightful opinions and revelations, about both himself, and John, that needed airing. Also, some unrequited McShep.
> 
> As for the chapter itself, I did a lot of creepy research, as usual. Some of my Google searches included _formaldehyde, methods of preserving fetal pigs, and humectant._ That last one brought up several lovely websites regarding the methods of embalming human bodies.
> 
> My thanks go out, yet again, to The Spawn, for riding Beta. <3

The soft sigh of the Medical Bay door, and the relative silence which immediately descended as it closed behind the last of the med-techs, was music to Dr. Keller's ears. As Chief Medical Officer, she'd been at the center of a veritable maelstrom of activity most of the afternoon and into the night, supervising the clean-up of Med-bay and its attendant labs. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jennifer sank gratefully onto the nearest stool and allowed the pleasant expression she had plastered on her face for most of the day to slip away. She wearily reached up and rubbed the back of her neck, trying to convince sore, tense muscles to resettle her shoulders a little farther away from her earlobes as she took a moment to appreciate her surroundings. 

The transformation was nothing short of miraculous, considering the state the infirmary was in after Atlantis' splashdown. It astounded Jennifer how much picking up, sorting, restacking, and cleaning could be achieved with a top-notch team and concerted effort. Buzzing around her with the tireless intensity of worker bees, her zealous technicians had managed to restore order to the majority of the chaos by dinnertime. With the added benefit of uninterrupted electricity, the remainder of the evening had been spent testing and recalibrating sensitive equipment which had been jostled by the battle and rough landing. In record-time, the non-working had been separated from the working and either repaired or catalogued and stacked by the door, the requisition forms requesting replacements already filled out and signed. 

While Dr. Keller was impressed with her medical team's single-minded efficiency and unflagging endurance - she was, in fact, aware that they had pushed themselves for her sake - an entire shift spent containing and channeling all that energy had exhausted her. Finally unable to maintain her mildly-agreeable facade any longer, Jennifer had practically shooed them out the door an hour before shift-change.

Automatically glancing up at the US Air Force military-issue clock centered in one of the symmetrical Art Deco-like designs gracing the walls at regular intervals, the blonde doctor winced, as she always did. The jarring incongruity of the starkly-functional military timepiece vaguely offended her, hanging, as it was, from the meticulously-crafted motif which obviously had been set in place by the Ancients for no other purpose than to beautify their surroundings. Twenty-three oh five, according to the inner circle of red numbers on the twenty-four hour clock-face. Five minutes past eleven, civilian time. The overnight shift, a skeleton crew of a single doctor and one medical technician, wasn't scheduled to show up until midnight. That meant Jennifer had plenty of time to take care of the special project Colonel Sheppard had asked her to work on for him. 

Dr. Keller fished a covered elastic out of her back pocket, absently finger-combing her luxurious blond hair before pulling it into an impromptu bun at the nape of her neck. Wispy bangs too short to be captured fell into byzantine eyes the color of fine cognac, only to be brushed impatiently aside as she rose from her seat and headed purposefully toward the refrigeration unit. Donning her lab coat on the way, the blonde added a pair of protective glasses and gloves to her ensemble when she reached her destination, an expression of grim determination thinning her lips. 

Jennifer had only glanced through the triple-glazed safety-glass window once while leading the triage team through Med-bay assessing damages, but it had been enough to see that the contents of the cooler looked like a dog's breakfast after being tossed around by the pitching and rolling the City had done. With so many other, actually-important assignments taking top priority, cleaning out the fridge had been relegated to the bottom of the to-do list, so no one had gotten to it by the time the Colonel had taken her aside and made his request. Realizing she had a unique opportunity to provide John with what he needed, Dr. Keller had immediately agreed to assist him. 

The only problem had been keeping her crew away from the refrigerator for the rest of the shift. Sheppard hadn't visited the infirmary until after nine, and by that point her people were looking for odd jobs to do. As it was, she'd barely stopped two of them in-time, just as they were preparing to tackle the odious task. The entire unit required a thorough sterilization protocol bordering on a Biohazard HazMat clean-up, which included salvaging whatever specimens and tissue samples could be saved, and the proper disposal of what couldn't. Considering the magnitude of the mess, it amazed Jennifer that she'd practically had to threaten the eager med-techs to keep them at bay, reassuring them that she'd handle it herself. 

In truth, Jennifer wasn't looking forward to facing the project on her own, but if she did nothing it was the same as allowing the IOA to cart the wraith off in the morning, and Sheppard had the look of a man who wasn't about to let that happen. The doctor snickered, mildly amused. She could read between the lines. She could see how much Todd meant to John, even if the Colonel hadn't figured it out yet. The alien meant a lot to her as well, albeit for very different but no-less-compelling reasons. 

“No more stalling,” Dr. Keller sternly admonished herself. Using both hands, she twisted the nickel-plated lever and unsealed the cold room. The sharp scent of alcohol-based humectant fluid hit her head-on. While the preservative was harmless, it was still overpowering in high concentrations, causing Jennifer to step back involuntarily as it stung her nostrils and forced her eyes shut even with the protective lenses. She swiped at the tears streaming down her face as the antiseptic miasma wafted out of the small room from disarranged trays and broken jars. 

Dr. Keller pulled the door wider to allow the fumes to dissipate, and it only took a couple of minutes before the air-exchange had cleared out the worst of it. Once she was satisfied she could work comfortably in the enclosed space, the blonde carefully propped the heavy door open with a stool, then walked into the refrigerator without a backward glance. 

If an unsuspecting man had stumbled into the infirmary at that moment, he would have been greeted by a seemingly-empty room, and a faint racket reminiscent of someone banging pots and pans in the kitchen, accompanied by a steady stream of cursing uttered in the dulcet tones of a soft-spoken, educated woman. It was a terrifying combination, and one that would have been familiar to most men, whether it evoked memories of mother, lover, or wife. Like any survivor of a full-on kitchen rage, a sane man would have run. 

After several minutes of what sounded like a pitched battle, Jennifer finally emerged triumphant. A tight-lipped but-satisfied smile lit up her face as she pushed a small cart out of the cooler. It was loaded with a miscellany of receptacles containing pieces of preserved Wraith, much of the material gleaned from the dissected corpses of beings whose singular misfortune had been that of falling into the Earth humans' hands over the past few years. Looking as unconcerned as someone wheeling in the dessert cart, Jennifer trundled her macabre collection across the infirmary. She ended up directly under the hateful clock, at one of the few work-stations with a sink.

Checking the time, Dr. Keller wasted none of it gathering the supplies she needed. After setting two insulated polystyrene medical containers next to her on the counter, the blonde emptied several of the meat-laden trays into the sink and turned on the water. She adjusted the temperature and force of the stream, then leaned her elbows on the edge of the sink and dandled her fingers in the cool water while it trickled over the indistinguishable greyish-green lumps. 

As she carefully turned the specimens over, rinsing them clean of embalming fluid, Jennifer's mind wandered to the living wraith that Colonel Sheppard was working so diligently to save. In spite of the vaguely-uneasy sensation she always had around Wraith in general, Todd's treacherous double-dealing, and the alien's terrifying capacity to go from gracious host - or guest - to psychopathic killer in the blink of an eye, Dr. Keller had always found working with Todd... rather rewarding. Even with survival instincts on high alert in the presence of an unabashed predator, Jennifer had been able to appreciate the wraith's keen faculties as he drew on stores of information so vast, so ancient, so alien, it boggled her mind to even consider. 

Todd was so much more valuable than the sections of dead, silent flesh the doctor now lifted, dripping, from the basin – not only for what he could offer intellectually, but for his very existence. The wraith's tissue and bodily fluids, vital and responsive, would take her so much further in her research than the inert samples she had been forced to work with since she'd become part of Atlantis. 

Dr. Keller's brow furrowed in thought as she spread the pieces out on folded paper towels to absorb the extra moisture. Although she wasn't privy to all the details, she had to assume that with the possibility of Atlantis eventually returning to the Pegasus Galaxy, John would want to ensconce Todd someplace local. 

Jennifer wondered how she might be able to convince Sheppard to approach the wraith about contributing small samples as needed, so she could continue her research into the gene therapy, as well as several other areas of Wraith physiology and development she was curious about. From a purely scientific standpoint, the chance to study the alien more closely was an opportunity she was loathe to pass up. Regardless of the less-than-stellar experiences she'd had with the Wraith, she had nothing but good intentions toward Todd and his kind, but as far as she was concerned he was a living tissue-and-cell donor, and she needed him to continue her experiments. 

As an added bonus, Todd was likely to keep the Colonel distracted – distracted and absent, if she was lucky – leaving Dr. McKay at loose ends. 

A smirk played at the corner of Dr. Keller's mouth as she weighed, then notated the thoroughly-cleaned samples in the computer. She meticulously fudged the information to cover the loss of specimens before distributing the pieces between the two containers: one for Colonel Sheppard, one for show as unsalvageable material. 

_Poor Rodney_ , she mused, looking decidedly more gleeful than sympathetic. She'd just have to do what she could to step in and fill the void left by his fickle best friend, when John inevitably abandoned him for the wraith. Men could be such bastards.

0*0*0*0

Dr. McKay flung back the thin blankets for what seemed like the hundredth time since he'd crawled into bed, worn out from his exciting evening. Still overstimulated from the dubious success of his solitary adventure into the depths of the darkened City and back again, and mildly hungry from the cotton-candy memories the scent of burning grape soda had awakened, McKay shifted restlessly as sleep eluded him. Pulling the covers up to his chin in the coolness of his room, he was eventually forced to push them off again, overheated and sweating from tossing and turning. 

Rodney finally gave up. 

“Damn it!” McKay snarled as he kicked himself free of the hopelessly-tangled sheets. Grumpy and out-of-sorts, he sat up and rubbed tired eyes, suppressing a shudder when his bare feet made contact with the cold tile floor. Frowning slightly, Rodney groped for the alarm clock he normally kept facing the wall so the surreal blue light emanating from the LEDs wouldn't wake him, and pivoted it so he could read the illuminated numbers. 

Eleven thirty-three. Damn, it felt later. 

Lost in thought, Rodney picked the clock up and turned it over. Before he knew it, he was repeatedly-pushing at the small button on the bottom, seized by the compelling urge to make sure the alarm was on. After a few minutes of this, he flipped the clock upright and slid the small bar on top back-and-forth for several more, checking the time he'd set it for again and again. Awakening as if from a dream, Rodney suddenly realized what he was doing, mid-slide. He clenched his hands tightly around the clock, forcing his fingers to stillness with a growl of frustration. Even with a whole toolbox of coping strategies, anxiety and exhaustion had a way of allowing some of his obsessive-compulsive tendencies to surface without the ability to bring them to heel. 

Reminding himself firmly that the alarm was indeed on, and he'd be awakened at six a.m. on-the-nose, the weary astrophysicist put the clock down with more force than necessary, then rose and stepped away from the temptation to go through the whole ritual yet again. Clad only in the hearts-and-kissy-lips boxers that Sheppard had given him as a joke once John had found out about Rodney and Jennifer's budding romance, McKay shivered in the frigid night air recirculating through the vents. He grabbed his ratty, pale-blue terrycloth robe off the chair by his narrow bed and pulled it on as he wandered across his darkened room to the window. 

Blindly plunging his hands into the drapes, Rodney fumbled for the cord he knew was hidden among the heavy folds of fabric shrouding the window. Finally locating it, he tugged, and the drapes parted swiftly with a swoosh and a dramatic flourish of billowing cloth. Moonlight spilled over him as he surveyed the silver-tipped waves, the sparse pinpricks of light from the homes dotting the hillside near the National Reserve, and the sky glow from farther-off Sausalito dimming the stars. McKay never thought he'd miss the Pegasus Galaxy, but suddenly moored in the middle of the hustle and bustle that was the Bay Area, he felt oddly hemmed-in, and found himself longing for the dark, quiet isolation of the double-mooned world they'd been calling home. 

If he was homesick for a world that wasn't even his, after such a short period of time, he could only imagine how the wraith must feel, so far from anything even remotely familiar. Rodney wrapped his robe tighter and tied a careless knot in the belt as he spared a thought for John's rescue mission. 

The downside of having so-profoundly taken the monitoring systems off-line was that he had no way of tracking Sheppard and Todd's movements through Atlantis. All McKay could do was wonder where they were in the City right now and hope they were safe. Until he heard from either John or Woolsey, there would be no way of knowing if Sheppard had been successful in releasing the wraith or if the Colonel had been caught in the attempt and was perhaps, once again, stuck in the cell next to Todd as he had been on that Genii moon. Although, logically, if John had failed, there probably already would have been armed Marines at Rodney's door by now, to take him into custody for his part in the conspiracy. There weren't many on Atlantis with the talent to create and activate that hologram. 

The only thing Rodney could be sure of was that he needed to be in Repair Central by seven o'clock tomorrow morning to interrupt the power to the brig a few times, shut off the hologram, and make sure that any repairs on the Jumper Bay Iris were scheduled for later in the day. Those were John's instructions, and like his faith that Dr. McKay would have the hologram of Todd up and running by ten, as promised, Sheppard trusted that in this, as well, Rodney would not fail him.

The Colonel's trust was well-placed. John was the closest thing Rodney had ever had to a best friend, and he'd move Heaven and Earth to live up to Sheppard's expectations. McKay was well-aware he valued John's good opinion of him more than was probably healthy, but he didn't care, no matter what Jennifer said. After a lifetime of existing on the fringe of every group he'd ever tried to be a part of, barely-tolerated, John Sheppard, rakishly charming and popular, had grabbed him and pulled him right into the center. He'd made Rodney an integral part of his team, and actually seemed to like him - for the most part. For gratitude's sake alone, if nothing else, Rodney was committed to doing everything he could to assist John with whatever he needed. 

Lulled by the water, McKay sighed and relaxed against the soft nest of voluminous drapery fabric. His breath fogged the window as he leaned in close to watch the ceaseless movement of the ocean, eyelids drooping as the the first waves of tiredness washed over him. 

Rodney knew someone else who would probably do just about anything for John, too – and had, on several occasions. He'd had seen how the wraith looked at Sheppard sometimes. After having worked with Todd on several projects, McKay had learned how to read the wraith's guarded features, and as far as he was concerned, the alien's feelings for the dark-haired Colonel were obvious. Rodney snorted in grim amusement. It was just another thing he and the wraith had in common. 

That John had unfailingly responded to any and all distress calls Todd had sent out since they'd met, tracked him down and freed him just as his life was about to be forfeited to a Queen, and talked a man into Death-by-Wraith so the alien could feed, were pretty big indicators to Rodney that Sheppard probably returned those feelings. Then again, maybe not. He might not even be aware of how the wraith felt. John was pretty clueless about Rodney's long-standing crush, never mind that McKay had always been careful to play it close to the chest. Of course, Rodney couldn't afford to ruin a friendship. They were few-and-far-between and too precious a commodity to risk. Todd, on the other hand, thousands of years old and understandably sure of himself, had no problem openly-admiring John. With Sheppard's rugged good looks and the devilish twinkle in his eye, it was easy to see why the wraith might be intrigued. 

As far as Rodney could tell, thought, John wasn't attracted to men, at least not to a level where McKay might have considered revealing his feelings. In fact, in spite of Sheppard's almost-habitual flirting, all the Colonel had to show for it was a failed marriage and no love-interests to speak of within the City. That, coupled with his constant surprise whenever anyone actually reacted favorably to his provocative banter, had left Rodney wondering if John's deliberately-enticing behavior was all an act. He sometimes speculated whether Sheppard might be asexual and genuinely disinterested in anyone of either sex. 

Apparently not, if he was drawn to the alien. However, Rodney had an inkling that if John was responding to the signals Todd was sending, it probably wasn't primarily because he was male, but because he was Wraith. 

That actually made a lot of sense, when McKay thought about it. Sheppard had been keenly-interested in both Steve and Bob, their first two Wraith 'guests' - almost obsessed. While Rodney had no idea why John had shot Bob down in cold blood, Sheppard had seemed particularly stricken when the pretty one, Steve, had died, the first Wraith to succumb to the effects of the Hoffan drug. Either way, it stood to reason that there might have been more than just hatred in John's intense reactions to both captives. 

McKay knew that revelation probably should have disturbed him a lot more than it did, but who was he to judge. If a Wraith was what John wanted, and being with Todd made Sheppard happy, then so be it; Rodney would be happy for them both. 

At the end of the day, he and John would still be friends.

A small, crooked smile stretched McKay's lips at that comforting thought. Content and sleepy, he drew the drapes back across the window, blocking out the moonlight's distracting brightness. Sure-footed in the familiar darkness of his sparsely-furnished quarters, Rodney padded across the room to his bed and shook out the sheet and blankets by feel. He tossed aside his robe, then settled in for the night, pulling the covers up with a sigh.

While he shivered and waited for his cocoon of blankets to warm up, Rodney drowsily marveled yet again at John's cluelessness. It never ceased to amaze him that Sheppard really had no idea how beautiful he was. The man didn't seem to realize that all he had to do was crook his little finger at just about anyone, and they'd come running. Except the Traveler, Larrin, of course, but that was another story.

Rodney's chortle of amusement ended in a snore.


	6. The Tipping Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheppard and Todd finally make it back to John's quarters for a few hours of rest. However, tension rises between them again as Sheppard comes face-to-face with his own desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I actually wrote this chapter in February! Since then I've been grooming and editing and tweaking it as the plot has progressed. This, and chapter one, were my original ideas for this story. It was supposed to be a one-shot PWP that took on a life of its own somewhere along the way, when I realized how much I needed to insert between Epilogue and this for it to make sense. Here it is, _October_ , and it's finally time to post it.
> 
> We're not quite to Explicit yet, but this is, quite literally, the tipping point, so they're almost there!
> 
> My thanks go out, as always, to The Spawn: my doggedly-determined Beta, my daughter, and... the Birthday Girl!!! Also to my friend Maris, who has squeed about John and Todd's budding romance whenever I've given her pages to read. Regardless of the fact that she's never even watched Stargate Atlantis, she ships Todd/John anyway.

The door whooshed shut behind Sheppard and the wraith as they skidded to a halt in the Colonel's darkened quarters. 

Todd twisted his arm out of John's grip and snarled, opening his mouth to protest the open-handed shove between the shoulder blades that had propelled him into the room, but Sheppard held up the offending appendage for silence. Still catching his breath after the abrupt sprint down the hallway, avoiding a routine patrol that was just a little off-schedule, John listened for the approaching boots of alerted Marines on the other side of the portal, but all was quiet. 

Satisfied that they had gone undetected, Sheppard leaned across to key his locking code into the panel by the door. “I think we'd know by now if we'd been seen,” the dark-haired man commented quietly over his shoulder.

Getting no response, he turned to face Todd for the first time since they'd entered. Sheppard was surprised to find he was already across the room and by the window, moving so soundlessly that the human, who had been listening intently, had not heard him. The wraith had drawn the heavy drapes aside enough to glimpse the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge and the headlights of the incessant cars moving along its length, even at this ungodly hour of the night. 

Pausing a moment to collect his thoughts now that the next step of his ill-conceived plan had been achieved, John shed his jacket and kicked his shoes off under the chair by the door. They had several hours before they had to move onto the the next stage, and Sheppard was looking forward to catching some shut-eye. As he removed his wristband and watch, and pulled his belt from its loops with swift automatic gestures, dropping the items on his discarded jacket, he found himself captivated by the alien's profile in the semi-darkness. Fierce and still, with a distant, almost wistful expression on his face; the only movement was the feral glitter of an intelligent yellow eye as it flickered eagerly, almost hungrily over the moving vehicles. 

Absently leaning down to peel off his socks and toss them across the room to land in the vicinity of the hamper, John could no longer deny that he found the wraith's lean, muscular body, pale green skin, and golden eyes – not to mention his lion's mane of perpetually-unkempt ivory waves - compelling - even... beautiful. _I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers._

The simple admission made his pulse race, and he felt his cheeks grow hot. He was grateful the darkness of the room hid the uncomfortable flush rising on his neck and face. Damn – he was actually blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush. The comparison, of course, made it worse. 

Scrubbing his hand through his hair in frustration, Sheppard closed his eyes for a moment to try and clear his head. He'd spent three years pretending he didn't feel the magnetic attraction between himself and the wraith. Even earlier tonight, he thought he'd done a damn good job of keeping it in his sneaker. He had worked so hard for so long, avoiding going down this road time and again; and here it was, staring him in the face anyway: means, motive, and opportunity.

It was like a freaking wet dream. In fact, it was like many Sheppard had had over the years involving Todd. His subconscious knew very well what he craved, and on its own erratic schedule it played out scenarios John could never admit to in the light of day. Hot alien in his room, middle of the night, moonlight – danger. He could actually feel his resolve crumbling. _Great timing, Sheppard. Maybe you could be a little gayer._

With a resigned sigh, John opened his eyes, just in time to witness a subtle shift in Todd's expression. Still focused on the world outside, and seemingly unaware he was being watched, the wraith allowed the civilized veneer to slip for just a moment. The part of him that worked, unfettered, side-by-side with Rodney, and uttered bad jokes to ingratiate himself to the humans simply fell away, and his darker side rose to the surface. The apex predator now gazed out the window, coldly calculating as he assessed his new hunting ground. 

Shaken from his reverie, the real world came rushing back to Sheppard as the enormity of what he was doing sank in. It was one thing for him to deal with the dangers of interacting with the wraith - he was prepared. It was quite another to think about releasing him into a civilian population where countless innocents could be hurt. Realizing what he fully-intended to set loose upon the unsuspecting denizens of San Francisco, John's hands stilled on the straps of his shoulder holster, as he considered whether to continue removing it, or reach for the weapon it contained. 

“Well, John Sheppard?”

“Well, what?” John asked defensively, wondering how long he'd been lost in thought.

Still by the window, the wraith was looking directly at him now, back-lit by halogen with moonlight illuminating half of his face, the other side was thrown into deep shadow. The mask was back in place, and Todd looked out at him, familiar and almost trustworthy. He hadn't moved except to turn his head, but Sheppard could see tension in the pale green hand gripping the drapes.

“Have you decided what you're going to do yet?” The wraith tilted his head slightly in inquiry, a small careful movement.

“What the hell are you talking about?” John tightened his grip on the black webbing of the holster.

Todd inhaled deeply, his nostrils and spiracles flaring slightly as he did so. “Let's see...,” he drawled, as if thoughtfully considering the bouquet of a fine wine. “Lust, fear... and rage. A heady mixture, to be sure. I'm just curious to see which one will win.” The wraith's eyes trailed from John's face to the hand resting close to the holstered gun, and back up, meeting hazel gaze with gold. “I find it difficult to believe you took all the trouble to break me out and get me to your room, to kill me here,” he continued, wariness underlying the mild amusement in his tone. “You could have just as easily finished the job there and been done with it.”

“You didn't look like a hungry predator in the holding cell,” Sheppard countered angrily. “You did just now, at the window. The last time I saw that particular expression on your face, you were snarling at me through the bars of Kolya's cage, howling because he hadn't allowed you to drain me dry.” 

Todd's eyes flashed with anger, but his voice was low and controlled when he spoke. “I didn't ask to be brought here, Sheppard.” The wraith let go of the drape, allowing it to fall back across the window. The room was momentarily plunged into darkness until the soft blue lights embedded in the walls and supports came to life with a barely-audible hum, lifting the gloom. 

By the time John could see the wraith again, the creature was looming over him with scarcely a meter between them. Bolstered by an adrenaline rush, Sheppard's instincts screamed at him to move away from the suddenly-perceived threat, but with his back already mere inches from the door he had to settle for glaring warningly. Todd glared back.

“You'd think you, of all people, would have accepted the reality of my feeding requirements by now. I thought you had.” The wraith took a step closer, cocking his head and peering intently into John's night-darkened eyes as though seeking answers. Sheppard steeled himself, afraid he knew what was coming. “For all the rhetoric you spout about how precious human life is, you still had the moral ambiguity to procure me a rather tasty repast when last I visited your lovely planet. You brought me a human, and you gave him to me - knowing what I would do to him. Do you remember that?”

There it was. 

Reluctantly, John nodded, unable to meet Todd's eyes. Of course he remembered it – he was the one who had to live with it – or not. He had actually justified it to himself, stuffed it down as far as it would go, and made it a point never to think about it. Even though he had ostensibly done it to save Jeannie and the countless human worlds the Replicators were targeting, he'd still chosen in the wraith's favor, knowing what he was and what he was going to do. 

Maybe it was just easier to be angry with Todd than it was to recognize how far he was actually willing to go for him. Sheppard had literally lured a man to his death to provide the wraith with a meal. With that decision, he knew he had crossed a line he couldn't come back from. It didn't help that John knew in his heart-of-hearts he would do so again if necessary – was doing so again, in fact, because it _was_ necessary. Like it or not, he was making the same choice with an even fuller knowledge of the alien's appetites and capabilities, and this time there was no convenient justification to back up his decision. 

With the wraith in his face demanding he stop running from the truth, Sheppard knew he couldn't avoid this any longer. He held no moral high ground here. He was making himself a willing accessory to every murder the wraith would perpetrate from here on out. Swallowing the bitter pill that had been stuck in his throat for so long, John finally acknowledged to himself that he was as cold-blooded a killer as Todd – while not in volume – certainly in intent. 

Without a leg to stand on, Sheppard's outrage drained away, leaving him feeling more than a little vulnerable. He didn't like it. 

The creature looked down at him with an expression that was almost sorrowful. “You know what I am, John,” he rumbled quietly. “You know what I do to survive. Eventually, I will grow hungry again, and I will have to feed.”

John looked up, miserable. “Maybe there's still another...,” he started to protest half-heartedly, but it was Todd's turn to hold up a hand for silence. 

“What have we been doing all this time, but looking for other options? If that gene therapy had worked, I would have lived with it - and gladly, if only to give you peace of mind – to make it possible...,” the wraith caught himself mid-sentence, compressing his lips together for a moment before continuing, “But it didn't, and now there is no other way.” 

Todd paused at the human's sudden spike of anxiety, the acrid stench of fear filling his nostrils. He realized that Sheppard was keeping a nervous eye on his still-raised hand - his right hand. He flexed his fingers experimentally and was dismayed to see John flinch, his eyes fixed on the feeding slit bisecting the wraith's palm, although at the moment it looked like little more than a seamed scar. 

After all this time and all they'd been through, and the human still failed to understand what the strength of the bond between them meant. With a sigh, he let his hand drop to his side. “Do you not yet realize that I wouldn't feed from you unless I was in dire straits, and probably not even then,” he murmured, his voice soft and gravelly. “I value your life far too much to do that to you.”

John had listened to the wraith utter sentiments like this before, allusions to deeper feelings. In the intimate twilight of his room, with the alien practically purring in his ear and so close they could touch, his assertions were much harder to dismiss, in spite of the proximity of the wraith's feeding hand to his chest. 

John glanced up, catching Todd's heavy-lidded gaze then looking away, unable to reconcile his reaction to the wraith's nearness and his revelation. His body, however, was tired of waiting and made its decision, turning traitor and reacting viscerally. A powerful surge of arousal shot through him, quickly displacing the fear and leaving him tingling and breathless. 

John desperately tried to control the sudden onslaught of physical sensation, and failed. It was one thing to rein himself in when he had a few minutes to himself, or there was something else going on to distract everyone. It was quite another when Todd was right there, and paying very close attention. Overwhelmed, Sheppard looked anywhere but the alien as he mentally wrestled with the messy tangle of his emotions, trying to bring the roller coaster to a complete stop so he could get the hell off the ride. 

For Todd, who normally had to resort to reading Sheppard's scent for clues as to what was going on in his head, seeing the human's barriers stripped away in what he thought was darkness enough to hide it was an like finding an unexpectedly-open window into John's psyche. 

Although the air around them was redolent with layers of telltale pheromones, the wraith stilled, scarcely daring to breathe as he watched warring sentiments pass unhindered across Sheppard's features, adding texture and context to the conflicting scents. Fascinated, Todd's excellent night vision allowed him to see every nuance of self-loathing, despair, anger, righteous indignation and uncertainty the Colonel struggled to contain – all the things that had compelled Sheppard to keep the wraith at arm's length. Sensing this was a pivotal battle for the human, Todd waited patiently for Sheppard to pull himself together. 

John regained some measure of the control he sought a few moments later, as he officially faced a truth he could no longer disavow. Todd's emotions had been engaged from the very beginning, in the underground bunker where the two had met. Their strange friendship – relationship - _courtship_ – had always been real to the wraith. What John finally admitted was that it had always been just as real to him, in spite of the denial he'd struggled with all along. 

The spinning roulette wheel of emotions slowed and stopped with his acknowledgment of the connection between himself and the wraith - and its implications. A calmness settled over him as he actually came to terms for the first time with his attraction to the tall, powerfully-built creature who was watching him closely. 

Sheppard straightened from his slightly defensive posture, the tension leaving his shoulders and his hands relaxing their death-grip on the holster straps. Releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, John sighed as he unbuckled the holster and slid it off his shoulders, draping it over the back of the chair. Then he turned and faced the wraith unarmed, meeting Todd's eyes resolutely. “Well?” He asked softly, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders, “Now what?”

Todd considered the human, his heated glance slowly crawling down, then back up Sheppard's body, relishing the catch in John's breath as he did so. Should he answer the question John was really asking, or should he draw him out a little more? The human had reached a crossroads, that much was clear; and while it seemed he'd come to a decision, it was newly-minted and untested. A misstep now could ruin everything.

For all the risks the wraith had taken in his long life, he knew there were some things that just couldn't be rushed. With a patience borne of millennia-old practice, he chose to err on the side of caution for just a little longer. “You're the one with the plan,” he finally rasped, when he finished his leisurely visual tour of the human's body and met John's eyes again, “You tell me what's next.”

Sheppard looked up at Todd's face intently, like he was seeing him for the first time. _Really_ seeing him. The wraith could tell he was being scrutinized, from the bone structure of his forehead, to the spiracles on either side of his nose and the flowing lines of the tattoo that accentuated his alien features, to the yellow-ringed blown pupils of his night-darkened eyes. John's vision traveled down to the wraith's slightly-parted lips, and a small, curious frown creased his brow. He caught Todd's gaze again, and the wraith was treated to a crashing wave of brazen, no-holds-barred desire, emanating from the human. Everything within him wanted to take John right then and there, and a snarl was torn unwilling from his throat as he fought to control his instinctive response to Sheppard's blatant invitation. 

There was no mistaking the deliberateness of Sheppard's action – or inaction. However, the wraith held his ground and didn't move a muscle in spite of the human's siren call, other than to clench his hands by his sides, his claws digging into his palms. There was only one way to be sure this is what John wanted, and Todd was certain that if he crossed the line prematurely, there was a distinct possibility that Sheppard would retreat, maybe for good. 

Sheppard didn't realize he'd subconsciously braced for impact, until the wraith didn't pounce. John had half-expected to be against the door, on the floor, halfway across the room, clothes ripped off, the moment he obliquely offered himself, and was disconcerted by his own disappointment. Did the wraith not understand? Perhaps, although it was unlikely. Usually Todd knew what was on John's mind before John did. Damn pheromones. Why were they failing him now, when he actually needed them?

As Todd shifted his weight from one foot to the other, watching him, a glint in his eye told Sheppard all he needed to know. Even in the dusky light of his quarters, he could see that the wraith was acutely, even painfully aware of John's offer; and that it was taking a herculean effort on the alien's part not to act on it. 

Apparently there were to be no convenient outs for John Sheppard. There would be no 'the-wraith-made-me-do-it' excuses the morning after. No denial. Nothing for him to hide behind. He'd thought he could incite Todd into action, and allow himself to be swept along in the wraith's passion. Considering how much Todd seemed to want him, it should have been easy to do, and easy to deny later later if Sheppard hated himself too much for giving in. The problem was that the wraith had enough restraint not to jump on him. Instead, he was forcing John to make a conscious decision; waiting, in a barely-concealed welter of anticipation, for Sheppard to make the first move. 

Consciously or unconsciously, they had been heading toward this moment for the past three years, ever since their paths had crossed and their lives had been inextricably intertwined on that Genii moon. Sheppard was suddenly weary, so tired of struggling against the inevitable, of fighting himself - and Todd – of denying himself something that might either be the biggest mistake of his life, or the best thing that ever happened. Either way, he wasn't going to find out how it turned out, until he took that one last step and actually reached for it.

Before he could change his mind, John grabbed a fistful of the grey jumpsuit that was stretched across the wraith's chest, stepping forward as he dragged Todd closer. The wraith allowed this, his breath quickening as he gazed down at the human with hooded eyes. Their faces mere inches apart, John whispered, “This is what's next,” and he tugged the wraith down, pulling him in for a kiss.


	7. The Peanut Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronon and Teyla, the Pegasus Galaxy faction of John's team of co-conspirators, bring their unique perspectives to the table as they make themselves ready for the morning. Ronon draws on inspiration from the past and Teyla contemplates fairytales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Rodney and Jennifer in _Ducks in a Row_ , Ronon and Teyla clamored to have their story told, and so _The Peanut Gallery_ was born. Like _Ducks_ , writing this chapter was more like channeling than actual composition. Ronon, especially. His backstory had been beating at my brain for some time, just looking for an excuse to come out. During my exhaustive, geeky research, I found a mention in an entry about Sateda, that when it was originally conceived the planet was going to be called Atteria. Since it was already connected to Sateda, albeit in a conceptual way, I used the name for the capital city. 
> 
> The inspiration for Teyla's vignette came, of course, from the picnic basket, and the snarky hash-slinger in the messhall who warned her to watch out for the Big Bad Wolf. It was all downhill from there. 
> 
> Enjoy! The scene will be shifting back to Todd and John in the next chapter.

Midnight. The previous day, with its exciting intergalactic journey, a triumphant space battle against an ancient enemy, and a safe landing in a safe harbor, trembled on the brink of extinction even as a new one was born. Honoring its passing, a solitary figure sat cross-legged on one of Atlantis' many balconies in the spire of living quarters closest to the Gate Room, watching the City by the Bay from the City in the Bay and remembering.

Dressed in thin pajamas, Ronon Dex shivered in the cold Pacific breeze. He instinctively fisted large hands in the woolen blanket draped over his broad shoulders, wrapping it tighter and clutching it closed over his chest. He hissed when his knuckles brushed the still-tender wound at the base of his throat. The telltale mark was the only visible remnant of the 'Gift' the Wraith Commander had bestowed on him earlier in the day, after the Satedan had been killed then resurrected on the Hiveship. The unseen part, of course, was the enzyme that still rocketed through Ronon's system, keeping him awake and hyper-alert long after the rest of Atlantis had succumbed to a well-deserved night's sleep. 

Wide-awake and alone with his thoughts, the former Runner did what came naturally: he brooded. 

It was hard not to. The tall buildings, the well-lit streets filled with vehicles and people even in the middle of the night, the glorious suspension bridge spanning the mouth of the Bay, all reminded Ronon far too keenly of Atteria. Sateda's capital city had been a beautiful, vibrant place, as full of light and sound and movement as this Terran metropolis they'd landed near, and seeing their similarities ripped open an old wound that Ronon knew would never truly heal. Atteria had been his birthplace, his playground, his home – until the Wraith descended on his planet ten years ago and destroyed it. 

Ronon snarled and impatiently scrubbed a hand over his face. Damn wind was making his eyes water. 

The Satedan found it difficult to grasp that it had already been a decade since the invasion and slaughter. It hardly seemed possible. His seven years as a Runner had passed with hardly any kind of milestones to mark the passage of time. Traveling randomly across the galaxy from planet to planet through the Gates, he could hardly keep track of where he was on any given day, never mind how long it had been since the Wraith had first implanted that tracking device in his back and set him loose. Every day he actually woke up was a surprise, and every evening he managed to find a crevice in an Ancient ruin, a cave, or an abandoned shack on an empty, Wraith-culled planet to close his eyes in for a few hours, was a gift. 

He couldn't ask for much more than that, and he didn't. Instead, he ran, he hid, he learned to hunt the Hunters that tracked him. Hatred and despair hollowed him out, honing the boy – barely out of his teens when it all started – into a hardened killer. On auto-pilot, he cut and slashed, ambushed and booby-trapped. When he came back to himself, usually up to his elbows in the black ichor that passed for the blood of his enemies, he sometimes wondered why he kept Running – why he didn't just stop and let some lucky Wraith finally take him down. 

The answer was simple. 

Weary-to-death as he had been all those years, Ronon believed he'd been left alive and made a Runner for a reason: so he could avenge his fallen people by killing as many of the green bastards as he could get his hands on. With such a solemn purpose – a promise wrung from him with blood and pain and loss, he had no option but to continue for as long as he could. Ronon knew he'd never be able to even the score for the life of every Satedan man, woman, and child that had been murdered, but he fought on, regardless, dreaming of the day when every Wraith in the galaxy was dead. In the meantime, he just hoped that by taking as many of them as possible out of the equation, he could save the lives of at least a few humans unfortunate enough to have been born in Pegasus. 

By the time his path crossed that of the Lanteans, Ronon Dex was little more than an empty shell of a man. A wary, cunning loner, he had no reason to trust the newcomers. He'd tracked them, trapped them, and taken them hostage as a matter of course. In response, they freed him from bondage to his Wraith masters. As simple as that. They didn't even know who he was, and it didn't seem to matter. Even after the threats and casual violence he'd subjected them to, all they saw was a fellow human who needed their assistance. It amazed him that this group of altruistic humans from another galaxy had managed to not get themselves killed long before they'd met him, stumbling into the middle of situations they knew nothing about and upsetting the natural order.

Most surprising of all, the naïve, soft-hearted aliens had invited him to stay with them, and were willing to provide him food, shelter, and protection the likes of which he hadn't experienced in a very long time. Ronon was a lot of things, but he wasn't a fool. He took them up on their offer. 

Having nowhere else to go, Ronon stayed in the Ancient City, always planning to leave... eventually. What he hadn't expected, though, was that in spite of the Earth humans' oddly-simplistic views on life, they'd begun to grow on him. Their easy, relentless camaraderie had slowly eroded some of the walls he'd built around himself, until one day he realized he'd actually started to like a few of his new companions. 

Sheppard, for one. He was a lot sharper than most of the others, and not afraid to put Ronon in his place if necessary. After initially testing boundaries, and having a few run-ins with the man who was ostensibly his new commander, Ronon had developed a grudging respect for Colonel Sheppard. Although John's battle-scars had been acquired from unknown enemies under a foreign sun, he was obviously a seasoned warrior with the ability to command, and the Satedan quickly learned to trust the man's judgment and leadership implicitly. 

A sharp gust of wind suddenly ripped the blanket out of Ronon's numb fingers, effortlessly lifting it off his shoulders and sending it sailing across the balcony. With reflexes like a cat, the Satedan leapt to his feet and bounded after it. He pounced on the woolen kite as it billowed toward the rail and managed to grab it right before it blew out to sea. Clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering, Ronon resumed his seat and rearranged the blanket around himself, pulling a flap up over his head like a hood and tucking the loose ends under his feet and thighs. 

He considered heading inside, but with the City so dark and quiet, a restless Satedan would find no distractions beguiling enough to keep from becoming destructive. Ronon knew he was better off bringing all his faculties to bear, contending with the elements. It was the best way to keep himself out of trouble until the fine trembling in his limbs, caused as much by the Wraith enzyme as the cold, subsided enough for him to get some sleep. 

Settling down and picking up his train of thought, Ronon corrected himself. He did indeed trust Sheppard - in all but one area. The Wraith. 

Not all the Wraith. In general, he and John actually held very similar views when it came to the green, life-sucking monsters. No – his problem was just with the one Sheppard insisted on calling Todd, of all things, and treating it like it had feelings that needed to be considered and a life worth saving. 

The Satedan had been mystified right from the beginning, when they'd rescued Sheppard from the Genii. After pulling the Wraith off John, Ronon had automatically lifted his gun to shoot it down, like it deserved. He didn't know how long it had been in the Genii's care, but it certainly looked worse than its kind usually did. Ronon figured he'd be doing it a favor, putting it out of its misery like an injured animal. However, Sheppard had stayed his hand. They'd all witnessed it feeding on the Colonel several times, so Ronon had assumed that John wanted to make the kill himself. To the former Runner's utter amazement, Sheppard not only let the filthy, smelly thing live, but also made them set it down on a Wraith-controlled planet, so it could make it's way back to whatever hellhole it had crawled out of. 

Since then, the Wraith had made a nuisance of itself, sniffing around again and again for anything of value it could steal, and trading on some sort of perceived connection between itself and the Colonel – a bond supposedly forged during their time on the Genii moon. Even after Ronon had had time to work on Sheppard, and bring him around to a more skeptical point-of-view, somehow, the Wraith and its needs managed to break through John's defenses every time their paths crossed. No matter how stubbornly he refused in the beginning, it seemed Sheppard always ended up helping the creature whenever it required assistance.

If the Satedan didn't know for a fact that it took a lot more than a single Gift of Life from a Wraith to break a human's will, Ronon would have sworn that's what had happened to John. In fact, he sometimes wondered if the Wraith feeding on John multiple times before it had finally given Sheppard his life back might have been enough to do it. 

He almost hoped that was the case, because the alternative was much worse. 

The undercurrents Ronon had been sensing, and studiously ignoring, between Sheppard and the Wraith hinted at something a whole lot sicker and more twisted than John simply being turned into a Wraith Worshipper. The Satedan normally turned a blind eye to it, and didn't like thinking about it even now, but the entire situation was so disturbing and wrong it bordered on disgusting. His lip curled involuntarily in revulsion and Ronon shook his head to clear it. He didn't like feeling that way about a man he otherwise respected. 

He'd much rather just kill the Wraith and get it out of the picture entirely, since John was either unwilling or unable to do it. Although the Satedan suspected if he did, there was a good chance it would cross a line with the Colonel to a place that Ronon really didn't want to visit. Ever. 

Regardless of what was or wasn't going on - and Ronon sincerely hoped he never had enough evidence to confirm his suspicions - the fact remained that if Sheppard wasn't going to allow Ronon to get rid of the Wraith, he certainly wasn't going to let the IOA take it away and exterminate it in their own time. No, the damn thing had to be rescued, and the Satedan was being dragged into it against his will. He'd dropped off the clothes earlier in the day that John had asked for, and thought he was done. That was until Teyla caught up with him as he was leaving the mess hall after dinner and informed him that they were meeting John in the Jumper Bay at oh-seven-hundred in the morning. 

Usually the Satedan was up for anything his commander asked of him, but Ronon felt like he was being forced to participate in this adventure, no matter what Sheppard had said in the dojo about him being able to refuse. Ronon suspected that John had banked on his loyalty, and like it or not, the Runner knew he couldn't let John down, even in this folly. 

He would show up, as requested. He'd play along – he'd even play nice. But so help him, if that Wraith so much as blinked at him the wrong way, Ronon was going to blast its head to a pulp. Maybe then, Sheppard would come to his senses.

0*0*0*0

Teyla Emmagan strode purposefully through the darkened corridors of Atlantis, flashlight firmly clenched in one hand and the handles of a large wicker picnic basket in the other. The Food Services Specialist had joked about her watching out for the Big Bad Wolf on her way to Grandma's, as he'd slid the fully-packed hamper across the mess hall's stainless steel counter a half-hour earlier. The gracious Athosian woman had nodded politely and smiled her thanks, but it had taken her several minutes of wracking her brain as she started the journey back to her quarters to place the man's reference. 

A smile tugged at her lips when she finally recalled one of the stories from the book of Earth _fairy tales_ that Mr. Woolsey had given as a gift for her son, when Torren and Kanaan had first come to live on Atlantis. Teyla appreciated Mr. Woolsey's generous gesture, entrusting her with such an old and valuable volume from his own treasured library. 

However, try as she might, she could not read it to her baby. 

It had nothing to do with her abilities. Teyla understood written English well enough to do so very easily. The problem was that she had found many of the tales far too violent and disturbing to be read to impressionable young children. 

Instead, she waited until Torren was asleep, then read them aloud to Kanaan in the evenings, the two of them trying - and failing - to imagine an upbringing that included such terrifying fare as a matter-of-course. 

Even with the fear of Wraith attack hanging over their heads every day, at least Pegasus' children understood it was a very _real_ threat, something tangible to guard against. From what she could discern, the fairy tales were little more than psychological torture, designed to fill innocent minds with vague fears and anxieties. 

Other than feeling the stirrings of pity for Earth's children, Teyla believed she had also gained a little insight into their readiness to face and battle the Wraith so fearlessly. She could only assume that after a childhood filled with so much unrealized horror, it must be a cathartic relief for the people from Earth to finally face their nightmares in a corporeal form that could then be vanquished, once-and-for-all.

Although, maybe there was something to be said for simply using the most primal of universal symbols to convey the deepest truths. Shifting the heavily-laden hamper from one hand to the other, Teyla had to admit that she did feel a bit like Little Red Riding Hood with her basket of goodies, traveling a dark and uncertain path. 

With the transporters out-of-commission and several of the more direct routes by-foot closed due to dangerous conditions, Teyla resigned herself to a long, slow hike back to her quarters. In an effort to lighten her mood, if not her load, as she delicately picked her way through a minefield of debris and downed wires by the beam of her flashlight, Teyla mentally sifting through friends and acquaintances with which to populate the rest of the Riding Hood's tale.

If she was Little Red Riding Hood, then that would probably make John the Grandmother. It only made sense. She was, after all, ostensibly bringing the basket of food for his sake. Teyla couldn't help but grin at the picture in her mind's eye of John's face superimposed on an illustration from the book showing a wizened, bespectacled old woman in a four-poster bed, covered with a puffy, pink quilt. Such an unkind image of Atlantis' Military Commander, and certainly far from the truth. However, it had definitely helped to paint the Colonel as fragile and in need of assistance when she had paid Mr. Woolsey a visit, after she and John had parted company earlier in the day. 

_“Mr. Woolsey, do you have a minute?”_

_Richard Woolsey grimaced in frustration at yet another interruption, as he looked up from the piles of reports and requisitions scattered across his desk. His expression softened immediately into a welcoming smile as he beheld the small Athosian woman hovering uncertainly in the doorway. Woolsey understood her hesitation. Teyla was obviously aware he was quite busy, and didn't want to interrupt him. As one of the few who seemed to realize that he was buried in work, too, he appreciated her consideration. However, the fact remained that she had still come to call, so he was sure it must be important._

_Carefully capping his fountain pen and placing it on top of the stack, Richard stood and walked around his desk, beckoning the woman who had come to mean so much to so many on Atlantis, into his office. “I always have time for you, Teyla,” he replied pleasantly, “Please come in.”_

_With a gracious smile, the Athosian entered. Following the unspoken invitation of his extended hand, she sat in the closest upholstered chair, perching on the edge of the seat. Richard sat opposite her and leaned forward attentively. “Now... To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”_

_“For the sake of brevity, I believe I should come right to the point,” Teyla began earnestly, clasping her hands and resting them on her knee. “I am concerned about Colonel Sheppard.”_

_Richard cocked his head in curiosity, a frown furrowing his brow. “In what way?”_

_“He stopped by my practice room a short while ago, clearly upset that Todd was scheduled to be taken by the IOA tomorrow morning.”_

_“Ah. Yes,” Woolsey rubbed the back of his neck in consternation, still feeling the sting of helplessness that dealing with the IOA always left him with. This time, his inability to say 'no' was costing them a valuable ally. “Colonel Sheppard made his... displeasure with the situation quite apparent.” He sought her amber eyes and gazed into them pleadingly. “There's really nothing I can do to stop it. I'm sorry.”_

_“I understand, Mr. Woolsey,” Teyla said gently. “However, I do not think John does. I fear he may make things... unpleasant tomorrow during the wraith's transfer.”_

_Atlantis' Commander sat up straight in his seat, slightly alarmed. “He didn't make any threats, did he? I have to take those seriously.”_

_“No, no – nothing like that,” Teyla responded soothingly. “I am simply worried for John's well-being. Todd placed himself in our hands trusting he'd be safe, and the Colonel feels he's let him down. I wondered if it might be better for everyone involved, if John wasn't on Atlantis when they came for the wraith.”_

_“What did you have in mind?”_

_The Athosian smiled hopefully, though her eyes belied her concern. “Perhaps John could take Ronon and I to the mainland for the day. We could do some sightseeing, maybe bring a picnic. I know the Colonel's heart won't be in it, but I believe he'll agree to it. I don't think he really wants to be here for 8:00, either.” Teyla sighed, then continued. “I thought maybe we could leave first thing in the morning – early – before the truck arrives, and just plan to be gone all day. Maybe two, if John feels he needs it.”_

_Mr. Woolsey weighed Teyla's request for a moment then nodded slowly, an answering smile lighting his face. “That's actually a good idea. I was a bit concerned, myself, that the Colonel might make some kind of scene. Have you mentioned this to him yet?”_

_“Yes. I suggested it to him when we were speaking earlier, and he seemed amenable to it. We will need to take one of the Jumpers, of course, so I didn't want to make definite plans until I cleared it with you.”_

_“Yes. Of course. You definitely have my permission.” Richard sat back against the cushions with a sigh of relief, a weight lifted from his shoulders that he hadn't been conscious he was carrying. He felt bad enough about Todd being remanded into the IOA's custody in the morning, without having an overwrought Sheppard to deal with, as well. One round with the Colonel had been more than enough._

_“Then it's settled. I'll let you get back to your work, Mr. Woolsey.” With a respectful nod, Teyla rose gracefully from her seat. “Thank you. I will see to all the arrangements.”_

_Richard scrambled to his feet as she turned to go. “You're very welcome – and thank you, as well. I think we may have just averted a disaster.”_

_Teyla glanced back at him, “Yes, Mr. Woolsey. I agree.” This time, her smile reached her eyes._

Halfway home. In a corridor that actually sported working lights, about three meters off the main nexus point for the level she was on, Teyla clicked off the flashlight and set down her burden, rolling her shoulders to ease fatigued muscles. She had come to an undamaged section of Atlantis, located near the living quarters the majority of the military had gravitated toward when the City first welcomed her latest residents. The hallway she rested in was one of several that came together in a large octagonal gallery, a bank of transporters along one wall, and on another, a row of crystalline sliding doors opening out onto one of the City's railed balconies. 

Ronon and John, as well as many of the Marines, chose to call this spire home. Teyla, too, once she had decided to link her fate with that of the Lanteans', resided here for several years, until she had a family to join her. However, once Kanaan and Torren moved in, it became immediately apparent that the small room she had claimed for herself was far too cramped to accommodate three of them, and they were forced to relocate to another part of the City with larger apartments. 

“If I lived here, I'd be home by now,” Teyla mused under her breath as she briskly rubbed the goosebumps from her bare, muscular arms. Like the rest of Atlantis, these hallways were as cold as the fresh ocean air that was being circulated throughout the City until the environmental controls were repaired. “Still, it could be worse,” she murmured as she crouched to pick up the basket again, “It could be windy, too.” 

At that moment, she heard a clatter coming from the direction of the gallery. It was followed by a low roar of sound which rose to a tortured whistling, cut off suddenly with a thunk. She jumped to her feet just as a strong gust of damp, frigid wind ghosted past her, blowing copper-colored bangs back from her face and stealing her breath for a moment as the temperature dropped precipitously. Suppressing a shiver, the Athosian instinctively pressed her back against the corridor's wall, tense and waiting. 

She smiled with relief as Ronon, who must have just re-entered after being out on the balcony, crossed the end of the corridor on his way to his room without noticing her presence. Even glimpsing the Satedan for a brief moment, it was obvious to Teyla from the set of his shoulders and his aggressive gait, that Ronon was decidedly unhappy. Although whether it related to being pressured into helping John, or simply that he was nearly-frozen from running around in just hospital pajamas and a blanket, she couldn't say. Either way, she silently wished him a good night's sleep. The morning was sure to be trying for all of them, and Ronon showing up with a hair-trigger temper and pistol to match, certainly wouldn't improve matters. 

Scooping up the basket with a sigh, Teyla crossed the gallery and headed for the stairs on the other side. Wondering if including Ronon in tomorrow's festivities was such a good idea, the Athosian distractedly traveled several more corridors and flights of stairs before she belatedly recalled her game. Although it seemed a bit silly now, it was a more pleasant pastime than worrying about the Satedan's ability to control himself. After a moment's deliberation, she resolved to include her irascible teammate in the story as the Woodsman. Ronon was perfect for the part, ready to break in, ax swinging, prepared to kill the evil Wolf and keep them all safe. 

And speaking of which - who better to play the Big Bad Wolf than Todd? Teyla stopped in her tracks, a bark of surprised laughter escaping her lips at her delightfully-accurate casting of the wraith as the story's ravenous villain. With Ronon as the Woodsman, it certainly echoed the dynamic of barely-contained violence that existed between the two of them. Her mirth was short-lived, however, when Teyla realized how close to the bone she'd actually come. 

Todd really was like the wolf in the story: urbane to a fault, seductively charming, while underneath he was still as much of a monster as any of his ilk, the desire to feed on human life lurking just below the surface. It was a sobering thought, and it shamed her that for all the wisdom she supposedly possessed, it had taken a child's tale to remind her of the truth. They all pretended the wraith was more harmless than most – just a misunderstood ally amid enemy ranks – even Teyla, who had more reason than most to mistrust him. 

After the fiasco on the Hive ship when she had masqueraded as a Queen, and had been forced to trust her life and well-being to Todd, Teyla had sworn she'd never work with the wraith again. He'd hidden key parts of his plan until the moment of execution – quite literally, and involved her in Wraith politics far beyond her ability to understand and respond to convincingly. Even worse, he'd more-than-once seemed ready to abandon her when the going got tough. As it was, she'd barely escaped with her life, and between the violation of her humanity the surgical changes had wrought, and the violation of her psyche by the countless Wraith minds she'd scarcely managed to hold off while in the Hive, she'd been haunted by nightmares for months afterward. 

Todd had come out of it richer by almost a dozen Hives, and exponentially more powerful. Somehow it seemed like an unfair exchange, and Teyla often wondered if that had been the wraith's true agenda all along, never mind his promises to use his position and influence for furthering Atlantis' aims. 

A flash of resentment and anger shot through her, bringing a heated flush to the Athosian's face. Considering what the wraith had put her through, Teyla couldn't fathom how John had managed to sweet-talk her into helping Todd yet again. Not only had she helped him, she was the linchpin of the entire plan. Without her willing assistance, the wraith's rescue would have been dead in the water. 

How she wished now that she had paused and reflected, instead of blindly agreeing on the basis of her long-standing friendship with the Colonel. But she had. She'd done everything John asked of her, and by now the wheels of his plan were already turning. The wraith was sure to be free, and the pair holed-up somewhere in Atlantis until morning. And as much as Teyla might want it to be otherwise, she was committed to seeing this operation through to its completion because, for some reason, it was important to John that this creature be preserved. 

Teyla frowned as she started down the hallway again, bothered by her own vehement reaction. She was uncomfortably aware that it was a response almost worthy of the Satedan. Although it would be easy to dismiss the wraith out-of-hand and believe only the worst of him, like Ronon did, Teyla knew she couldn't do that. It was not her way. Todd was not _all_ the Wraith, he was an individual, and he deserved to be judged as one. As leader of her people, Teyla had always done her utmost to be fair and just; and to be fair, for all the occasions Todd had double-crossed them or twisted situations to his own advantage or helped himself to classified information, he'd proven himself a staunch and faithful ally on at least as many others.

In fact, only a few months ago, the wraith had managed to save the Atlantis team and himself with some impressive piloting skills, successfully bringing down his rapidly-decomposing and almost-unresponsive ship for a safe water-landing in the ocean of New Lantea. Telepathically merging with the dying Hive, Todd had forced it to change its attitude and slow its descent enough that the humans were able to survive the impact of the ship hitting the water. 

All this while he was in great pain, suffering from a terrible, rapidly-advancing cancerous illness. An unforeseen side-effect brought on by the gene therapy Dr. Keller had developed, it had manifested after he'd taken it willingly and given to his crew _so they wouldn't have to feed anymore._ Teyla felt sure the doomed experiment had been an act of desperation, motivated more by Todd's desire to save his people from the devastating effects of the Hoffan drug, than to spare human lives. But while it had ended badly for both his sorely-afflicted crew and his ship, the fact that he'd attempted it at all had been an astonishing leap of faith, and one she never would have expected a Wraith capable of. 

Teyla also recalled an offhand remark John had made during a recent mission, about the wraith's continuing efforts to try and locate her when Michael had kidnapped her. Apparently Todd had gathered as much intelligence as he could from his sources, and fed a steady stream of rumors and hearsay to Dr. McKay through a relay station. The original deal had been intel in exchange for pieces of Beckett and Keller's research into the Hoffan drug. However, once they'd run out of carrots to dangle, the wraith had still sent packets of information, doing his best to assist them in tracking down one human woman in the vast reaches of Pegasus

And just yesterday, Todd had provided them with the Zero Point Modules they so urgently needed, making it possible for Atlantis to get to Earth in time to battle the superhive. Although, by doing so, he'd tacitly sacrificed yet another Hive ship and a full complement of Wraith warriors to the humans defending their homeworld. 

Standing outside her own door at last, Teyla paused - and reflected. If Todd was a Big Bad Wolf, it seemed he was one who, for some reason, had thrown in his lot with Little Red Riding Hood, Grandma, and yes – even the Woodsman. A creature tame enough to feel protective toward his chosen pack, but still wild enough that to deal with him carelessly might get your arm taken off. All-in-all, an unusual Wraith, indeed. 

Perhaps he was worth saving, after all.


	8. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometime later in Sheppard's quarters... the action may be over for now, but Todd's recollection of their time together is vivid and clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the title says it all. 
> 
> This is another chapter that was actually written months ago, out of sequence, because the boys wouldn't stop pestering me until I did.
> 
> There's a lot of head canon in this one, since there is much we don't know about Wraith.

Todd was awakened from his light doze by an ache in his hip. He'd been lying on the same side for several hours, unable to move or shift or turn for the size of the bed, and the human he had possessively wrapped in his arms. Knowing the pain would only grow worse if he did nothing to try and alleviate it, he reluctantly began the tricky process of disentangling himself. The bed was definitely not made for double occupancy, but he did his best to shift without disturbing his sleeping companion. 

Straightening out his long powerful legs, Todd pointed his feet and curled his toes in a luxurious stretch, body taut and quivering. He held it for a moment, allowing his muscles to unkink, before relaxing into a boneless heap with a small exhalation of pleasure. Folding himself up again, the wraith fitting his knees behind John Sheppard's, and gently pulled the sleeping man closer to him on the narrow bed. 

A fine shiver ran through Sheppard as the wraith slid his arm around him, and Todd realized that the bedclothes had slipped while they were sleeping, exposing them both to the night-chilled air circulating through the vents. While the wraith was comfortable in the coolness of the darkened room, his body used to much lower temperatures, he knew the cold would eventually waken the human. 

Reaching out, the wraith snagged the corner of the military-issue blanket just before it disappeared over the edge the cot and dragged the scratchy wool back up, settling it over them securely. Todd may not have required the warmth, but he did appreciate it, instinctively gravitating toward it like a moth to a flame. He had discovered that when sleeping, John was a veritable furnace; and he enjoyed the way Sheppard's body radiated enough heat under the covers to warm them both. 

The wraith's sudden movement and the returning warmth roused John from his slumber, aware that something had changed. Lifting his head and barely opening one eye, he blearily scanned the room, frowning slightly as his sleep-addled brain tried to figure out why he'd awakened. After a moment of confused blinking he laid down again and closed his eyes, uttering a small drowsy noise somewhere between a growl and a purr as he pulled the woolen blanket up over his shoulder, content that all was as it should be. 

It amused the wraith that his presence in Sheppard's bed had been so quickly accepted by the human as being within normal parameters. Todd's amusement gave way to surprise when John blindly groped for the wraith's hand and drew it across his stomach again from where it rested on his hip. 

Settling down with a contented sigh, the human's breathing deepened and slowed as he drifted off, slipping once again into the slumber of the exhausted. A small, sated smile pulled at the corner of the wraith's mouth. He'd had the pleasure of seeing to that. 

Like a dragon with its hoard of treasure, the wraith found it impossible to keep his hands to himself when the object of his long-suppressed ardor was curled up right in front of him, quiescent and defenseless. Pausing to make sure Sheppard was truly asleep, Todd then glided his feeding hand slowly back-and-forth over the human's abdomen and the sparse fur there, reveling in the pleasurable tickle of the hairs as they grazed his sensitive palm. The fur on Sheppard's body thrilled the wraith in a secret, perverse way. It was so alien, so different from his own smooth skin. He loved the feel of it rubbing against him, and the way it gathered and disseminated scents – a pheromonal legacy humans no longer had the ability to interpret. 

Propping his elbow on the pillow the two shared, Todd drew closer and buried his face in John's short dark hair, snuffling and inhaling deeply, losing himself in the delicious complexity of smells he had no difficulty translating. The intermingled scents of human and wraith overlaid with the musky tang of sweat and sex assailed his scent receptors, making his mouth water. For a moment he had to fight the urge to mark Sheppard again, his teeth aching in anticipation. Instead, he leaned in and very carefully ran the tip of this tongue over the scabbed-over ring of wraith teeth-marks at the nape of the human's neck, relishing the memory of sinking teeth through skin, John's gasp as he did so, and the hot metallic taste of blood in his mouth. 

The center of the bite mark was swollen, red, and and warm-to-the-touch from where Sheppard had been stung, the barb under the wraith's tongue injecting a dose of venom designed to mark, indelibly, any he deigned to claim as his own. Todd could already detect the subtle changes to the human's scent. Between that and the scar John was sure to carry, any Wraith he encountered in the future would know that he belonged to one of them - to him. That was assuming they ever made it back to the Pegasus Galaxy. 

For now, Todd determined to make the best of the situation, as he usually did. It was a hallmark of Wraith longevity and survival: the ability to roll with whatever came his way and, if possible, turn it to his advantage. If he was going to be trapped on Earth for an indeterminate length of time, at least he wasn't going to be locked away in a cage somewhere as he had first feared, thanks to his human Brother. Even better, this same human, this Brother he'd been aching for, had finally accepted what was between them and given in to what they both wanted all along. Now that Sheppard was by his side, the wraith firmly believed there was nothing they could not accomplish, and he was eager to explore his new home with his long-awaited consort.

Heaving a satisfied sigh, Todd propped his head on his hand and surveyed the wreckage that until recently had been the Colonel's quarters. Even in the gloom of the predawn hours, the damage was clearly visible. It pleased the wraith that some of it was actually structural: clawmarks in the metal door, where Todd's nails had grazed it when he first pulled Sheppard to him; and cracked tiles in one of the columns, from when he and the human had careened into it on their way to the bed, too distracted with ripping each other's clothes off to avoid it. Thankfully, it was his shoulder that had hit it, and not Sheppard's, and it was the column that had lost. The bed also creaked alarmingly, which John claimed it had never done before, so it was possible they'd broken that, too. 

Other than that, shattered furniture and the shredded remnants of clothing littered the floor. The chair by the door was lying on its side in several pieces halfway across the room, where it landed after having been kicked against the wall, John's weapon and accessories strewn in its flightpath. Determined not to go down alone, the chair made sure it took out a small bookcase before it hit the deck, old comics and an extensive collection of car and girlie magazines spilled out beneath its splintered carcass. 

While he miraculously managed to get Sheppard out of his pants without destroying them, and left only a few holes in the human's black t-shirt, Todd made sure the hateful grey jumpsuit Colonel Caldwell had forced upon him was no more. The wraith gladly tore the top open when Sheppard had difficulty with the zipper, inflicting further damage on it whenever he could until it was reduced to rags. Fabric clothing was ridiculously fragile.

_“I do not regret shredding that... thing Caldwell made me wear after he took my clothes,” Todd snarled as he leaned down to consider the still-seeping bite-mark on the back of Sheppard's neck, “I'm glad it's gone. I don't care if I have to stroll through San Francisco naked.” The drops of fresh blood welling from the wounds provided the wraith with a tiny, tantalizing taste of John's life-force as he gently lapped them up._

_Sprawled sleepily beneath the wraith, face-down on the bed with his cheek resting on his folded hands, Sheppard snorted in agreement. He knew Todd was more upset about that indignity than he cared to admit. And while John understood that Colonel Caldwell had done it to make sure the wraith had nothing up his sleeves this time, Sheppard couldn't help but mourn the loss of Todd's wraithskins as much as the wraith. He did look pretty badass in them._

_“It's a good thing Ronon donated some clothes to the cause, or you would be,” Sheppard murmured breathlessly. He felt the larger male's weight on his back shift, as the wraith started gnawing his way down John's shoulder, nipping hard enough to dimple his flesh without breaking the skin._

_Senses heightening as he was awakened from his lethargy, Sheppard shivered with delight at the vaguely-threatening sensation of sharp teeth being pressed against him. Blissfully riding the keen edge of pleasure and pain that the wraith was inflicting, John moaned in protest when the alien suddenly stopped. The moan ended in a surprised gasp when Todd latched onto the bleeding wound again, his tongue flicking over it tenderly but relentlessly, until John wanted to crawl out of his over-sensitized skin._

_Of course the wraith had to bite him in the exact spot that drove him wild. Every time Todd ran his tongue over the mark, a jolt of electric pleasure ran down Sheppard's spine, and instinctive, lizard-brain wiring made John's body arch – or try to. The wraith had already pinned him down, spread him and taken him twice, and was still buried to the hilt between his tingling cheeks, so all John could really do was some abortive squirming._

_Warm breath and low, throaty laughter tickling his ear told John that his wriggling pleased the wraith. The first languorous roll of Todd's hips as he rocked back then thrust his engorged cock deeper, ridged length growing hard and needy for a third time, reminded Sheppard that there was a lot he didn't know about Wraith. There were a few things he was learning quickly, however. The first and most important lesson was that_ every _wraith appetite was apparently insatiable, sex included._

_Fully aroused after a few more of the long, slow, teasing strokes, the wraith paused, his body trembling with barely-contained passion as he tried to ascertain John's willingness for another mating. For a Wraith, what they'd already done would have been considered only the beginning, but he knew the human was wrung out from their previous encounters. With no protests forthcoming from the man beneath him, Todd began to move again, although cautiously; grudgingly prepared to stop if John wanted him to._

_Unable to stifle a groan, Sheppard surrendered to the sensation of the wraith's prodigious length impaling him, filling and stretching him in ways he'd never imagined, even in his wildest dreams. God help him, he loved it. In spite of the rawness of his ass and the ache inside from their two earlier couplings, John clutched the edges of the narrow bed, pushing back against the wraith, meeting his powerful thrusts and silently begging for more._

_As pheromones of human arousal started to perfume the air, Todd eagerly picked up the pace, muscled haunches rippling as he sank into John's tight, puckered rosebud again and again. He could sense John's submission in his subtle shifts of posture – could feel the human pleading as he arched up against him. With an impassioned growl, the wraith responded to the invitation with a snap of his hips, plunging into the human with quicker, sharper strokes, ridges punishing Sheppard's entrance as he pistoned in and out. John's breath hitched as the wraith obliged him, and he panted in time to Todd's exertions as the larger male took him, the increased speed and friction rapidly bringing them both closer to the edge._

_Groaning with the intensity of his escalating desire, the wraith slid an arm around Sheppard's midsection, snaking it lower until he could feel the human's erect, already-weeping cock rubbing against his palm, the tips of his claws tangled in pubic hair and the back of his hand pressed against the crumpled sheets. Todd caressed John's length as he drove into him from behind, the sweating human bucking against his hand, writhing beneath him as he desperately sought his release. The wraith could feel Sheppard's muscles clamping down on him as he struggled, could feel the trembling that meant the human was getting close – so close._

_Todd's breathing grew ragged as he pounded John into the mattress harder and faster against the tightening muscles, nearing his own climax. Drowning in physical sensation, overwhelmed by Sheppard's musk, and the fierce lust they awakened in each other, the wraith struggled not to lose himself completely in their frenzied rutting, dimly aware that he could damage the human, perhaps even kill him, if he did._

_The human, on the other hand, had already succumbed. Heedless of anything other than the sensual assault on his body, Sheppard mewled with animalistic need as he gave himself over to the wraith's merciless pummeling, and the clawed hand massaging his aching member. His senses overloaded, his body poised for too long on the edge of ecstasy, John finally came undone. Uttering a single, sharp cry of release, he spasmed beneath the wraith. His abused cock throbbed in Todd's grip as he erupted over the wraith's hand, saturating the sheets._

_Evidence of the human's pleasure coating his fingers drove Todd to the very edge of his control. He slammed into Sheppard's convulsing body as the human ground up against him in the throes of passion, exquisite pressure building as John clenched around his shaft, squeezing and releasing. Unable to hold back any longer, the wraith came with a heartfelt groan, John's muscles literally milking the orgasm from him. Todd hilted himself one last time and spilled his seed deep inside the human, his growl of satiation lost in the loud crack of the bedframe._

_Completely spent, both collapsed onto the battered cot, the wraith shifting enough that his torso rested beside John instead of crushing him, his arm thrown possessively across the human's sweat-slicked back. For a few moments they lay still, listening to each other's breathing return to normal as they floated in a haze of voluptuous bliss, the faint aftershocks of pleasure as they came down making toes tingle and breath catch._

_Finally needing to make sure he was still capable of movement, John shifted stiffly beneath the wraith, indicating with small sounds and movements that he needed the creature to move. Reluctantly, Todd pulled out of the human and rolled off him. The wraith sat on the edge of the groaning cot, gazing down at his companion, admiring the play of muscle-under-skin on Sheppard's well-developed back as the human struggled to rise. Grasping the wraith's shoulder to support himself, John managed to haul himself to his feet and tottered gingerly to the bathroom with a peculiar, bow-legged gait._

_The sight of Sheppard favoring his tender backside after what the wraith had done to it, brought a smug smirk to Todd's face. He'd ravished the willing human, making John Sheppard his in every way that mattered. His smirk grew into a shark-toothed grin of triumph at the thought, more than pleased with this evening's latest development and its possibilities for the future. A small, satisfied chuckle escaped his lips as he pulled the soaked topsheet off the bed and punched up the pillow. Doubly amused, since he was certain Sheppard wouldn't appreciate his gloating, the wraith did his best to school his features into an expression of polite concern while he awaited his lover's return._

_John eventually emerged from the bathroom, glowering at Todd as he carefully made his way back to the bed, watching for signs that the wraith might be enjoying his discomfort, and the reason for it, a little too much._

_“Is there a problem, Sheppard?” The wraith ventured mildly, careful to keep his expression neutral. He pulled back the army blanket he'd found and stretched across the cot, inviting the human to join him under the covers._

_“I'm not going to be able to sit down for a week,” John groused as he eased himself down onto the mattress, the bed creaking ominously as he shifted to lie down in front of Todd, “And you broke the bed.”_

_“I think you're mistaken, John,” Todd murmured as he drew the blanket over the human. “I'm sure you'll heal much quicker than that.”_

_Todd draped his arm over Sheppard, resting his feeding hand lightly against the human's abdomen like it was the most natural thing in the world. After a moment's hesitation, John relaxed, leaning back against the wraith's broad chest. No sense in having boundary issues now, John mused as his eyelids started to droop, not after what he and Todd had been doing._

_John absently ran his hand down the back of Todd's forearm, marveling drowsily at the wraith's smooth, hairless skin, his fingers coming to rest against the back of the alien's. “'night, Todd,” he whispered, balanced precariously on the edge of slumber._

_“Sleep well, John Sheppard,” Todd rumbled, his voice a soft purr as he leaned in to nuzzle the back of the human's head, “Just remember - if the bed is broken, it is because you required more from me than the bed could take.”_

_“Hrrrrmph,” John managed grumpily, before losing his battle with consciousness. The wraith's amused snicker was the last sound he heard before sleep claimed him._

Chuckling again at the memory of Sheppard trying to bristle even as he nodded off, Todd laid back down behind him, resting his head on the pillow and his cheek against John's dark hair. The human was highly entertaining when he was annoyed, and Todd enjoyed being the one to get a rise out of him. Another wide, Cheshire Cat grin briefly split the wraith's face as he reveled in his unintended pun. Yes, he acknowledged silently as he covetously clutched Sheppard closer, he enjoyed getting a rise out of the human on many levels. 

John had set an alarm on the chronometer sitting on the small table next to the bed, to wake them in time to move on to the next phase of the plan to get him off Atlantis. Although the wraith had his doubts as to Sheppard actually having a plan, never mind it working, Todd was grateful he was at least allowed the luxury of sleeping, instead of having to keep watch in anticipation of the dawn. 

Still vaguely amused, Todd sighed deeply, relaxing as he let his guard down. Heavy lids eventually slid down to conceal weary golden eyes, and the wrath drifted off soon after, secure in the knowledge that whatever the coming day might bring, for the moment he had everything he could possibly want: a safe place to rest and John Sheppard in his arms. For the moment, which is all anyone ever had - wraith or human - he was content.


	9. Soothing the Savage Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just waking up in the morning brings its own set of challenges, as John learns that the distinction between black and white is oftentimes a shade of grey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written in a couple of separate sections then pieced together. The opening was actually the last part written, and I recently had to re-write the ending to account for something that happens later. All-in-all, it's been a challenge. I did enjoy developing the boys' relationship a little more, and it was fun discovering how they play off each other now that things have changed between them.
> 
> There's also head canon relating to Wraith in general, and Todd's history.

John wasn't sure what finally dragged him, unwilling, back to consciousness: the first couple of beeps of his alarm trying to do its job, the startled growl of a sleepy wraith, or the crash of something that sounded suspiciously like his poor clock shattering on the floor.

Sheppard's eyes flew open, and in the murky pre-dawn light he groggily peered across the expanse of pale-green chest he'd been using as a pillow, to where his alarm clock should be – used to be. Disoriented and still half-asleep, he tried to push himself into a sitting position, but a strong arm across his back and claws curled possessively over his hipbone kept him firmly in place. Finally lifting his head and craning his neck, John found himself gazing into the yellow, slit-pupiled eyes of... his lover.

Todd. 

“Hey,” John murmured softly, by way of greeting, even as a blush stained his cheek.

The wraith looked pleased to see him, and oddly apologetic. Had Todd always been this easy to read, and Sheppard had just overlooked it, or was the wraith letting down his guard? John couldn't be sure.

“Don't worry about the clock. I can get another one.” Held so closely, John could feel tension in the wraith's body ease.

“It was right next to my ear and woke me from a sound sleep. I reacted instinctively.”

“I can see why destruction might have seemed like a reasonable course of action,” John drawled. “There have been many mornings I've wanted to do the same thing.”

Todd chuckled and John felt fingers stroke through the short hair at the nape of his neck. Sheppard had always loved it when someone played with his hair, and he succumbing to the sensual pleasure of being petted with a sigh. Relaxing into it, he melted along the length of the wraith's body, his leg thrown across Todd's thigh. 

The wraith's surprisingly-gentle touch awakened John's sleepy arousal, and his half-hard morning erection began to thicken and lengthen. He resisted the urge to rub himself against Todd's leg, but only just. Instead he laid his cheek on the wraith's chest again, hesitantly trailing lazy fingers of his own over the other's solar plexus as he listened to the alien's slow, strange heartbeat. “Don't you have alarm clocks in the Hive?” John asked, settling closer. “How do you show up for your shifts on time?”

“We have no need for such things on a Hive ship,” Todd answered, the rumble of his voice resonating in his chest a soothing vibration against the side of Sheppard's face. “The ship is aware and communicates its needs to us on a subliminal level. We are attuned to the rhythm of its cycles, and they call us to duty when needed.”

“It must be a nice way to wake up,” John murmured. Extending his tentative fondling, John slowly slid his hand over the hills and valleys of the wraith's chiseled abdomen, marveling at the taut muscles and smooth skin.

His own ardor rising in response to the sensation of the human hardening against his thigh and the scent of John's arousal, Todd shivered. He lightly rested the hand not tangled in the human's hair on top of John's as he caressed him, following Sheppard's movements like fingertips on a ouija board's planchette. “This is a nice way to wake up.” He felt John smile, the muscles in the human's cheek flexing where he was pressed against him. 

Still grinning, Sheppard turned inquisitive hazel eyes toward the wraith, resting his chin on the alien's chest and his hand flat against his stomach. “You don't mind if I ask you questions, do you?”

The wraith hesitated before answering, the emotions that had been so easily-discernible a moment before were now replaced with careful neutrality. “Is there anything in particular you wish to know, or are you speaking in generalities?”

“In general. I just wanna make sure it's okay.” John almost wished he hadn't asked the question he had, since it had caused the wraith to shut down on him. “As you keep saying, there's so much about you I don't know.” Tangled up as they were on his narrow cot, he shrugged as best he could, trying to look as harmless as possible. 

A short, gruff laugh greeted Sheppard's efforts. “You play innocent about as well as I do.” Todd sighed and shook his head, a glint of affectionate amusement bleeding through the disinterested mask. He considered John a moment more, then nodded. “When you have questions, you may ask them. I will do my best to answer them for you.”

“Thank you,” John murmured, distracted by the ache between his thighs. It had flared to life with the wraith's soft caresses and had finally reached critical mass. Torn between keeping to their timetable and his growing need, Sheppard had done his best to resist, and had mostly succeeded until Todd had given him that look. Undone by the unexpectedly-intimate display of emotion, John bucked against the alien's leg, the friction only serving to intensify his desire. 

In the dusky light, Sheppard could see as well as feel the wraith respond, his pupils exploding from slits to black pools as his head came up off the pillow. John pushed himself up on his elbow, his own eyes darkening as he surged forward and hungrily pressed his lips to the wraith's. Losing himself in the thrill of exploring the other's heated, enticing mouth, John softly ran his tongue along Todd's upper lip before slowly sucking the alien's lower lip between his own, blunt human teeth scraping and nipping gently. 

Overwhelmed by pheromones and the exquisitely-sweet torment of the human tenderly worrying his lip, Todd responded with a low, throaty groan. He trailed his hand up Sheppard's flank and over his abdomen, to finally grasp the human's stubble-covered jaw, gently holding him still as he concentrated on returning the kiss – carefully. Humans liked kissing, and the wraith could understand the appeal. The feel of John's soft, silky lips moving across his own awakened a keen sensitivity that left them tingling. 

Wraith didn't kiss – each other, anyway - as a general rule. Their razor-sharp teeth made it an activity fraught with danger. It was possible with humans, but care had to be taken until they were trained, so they didn't get their lips or tongues cut to ribbons.

In fact, his first official act as John's consort had been just that, when the human, in his eagerness, had lacerated his own tongue on the wraith's wicked teeth the previous evening, before Todd had had the chance to urge caution. John had pulled back with a startled gasp of pain, while the unmistakable odor of human blood had filled the air. To Sheppard's credit, though, he hadn't backed away. He'd let Todd gently pry his hand away from his mouth and lap up the blood coating his palm and dripping down his chin, the sensations of tongue-on-skin soothing and exciting him. By the time the wraith was licking at Sheppard's lips, looking for entrance, John was more than ready to let him in. The combination of motivated student and passionate teacher had made for a mutually-satisfying lesson. 

The wraith's grey tongue flicked out to brush over Sheppard's teeth and he opened without hesitation, inviting Todd to deepen the kiss. Moaning low in his throat as their tongues entwined to duel against the roof of his mouth, John sensuously swept his hand down the wraith's waist toward his hip. Before he reached his destination, fingers that had, until a moment ago, been cupping his face, suddenly wrapped around his wrist and guided him lower until he felt the engorged head of a weeping wraith cock brush over his knuckles. 

Rocking his hips forward to try and ease his own straining erection against a muscled thigh, Sheppard wrapped his hand around Todd's ridged length, wrenching another impassioned groan from the aroused wraith. Tightening his grip, John began to stroke. 

No sooner had he begun, when the tinny, annoying beeping of his watch's alarm could be heard from beneath a pile of debris near the shattered bookcase. “Goddamn!” Sheppard exclaimed as he broke the kiss and pulled away from his astonished partner. Thanks to their pleasantly-distracting little side trip, they were now running ten minutes behind. As much as he wanted to smash the watch and throw it in the Pacific, he was also grateful he had gotten in the habit of setting its alarm to go off ten minutes after his clock, just in case. There were too many mornings his ass had been saved by his watch-alarm after he'd shut the clock off and promptly fallen back to sleep.

John threw back the blanket and stood abruptly, growing panic tamping down his burgeoning desire. “Later,” he promised Todd huskily, as the wraith sat up and reached to pull him back. Catching the alien's questing hand in both of his, he squeezed it gently then released it. “We'll finish this later. I promise.” 

Inscrutable golden eyes followed him as he scavenged through the rubble until he located the beeping watch, the discordant cacophony and eerie green flashing glow ceasing abruptly with the press of a button. “I'm so sorry,” Sheppard muttered, looking up at the wraith apologetically. It took every bit of John's strength not to wrestle the wraith to the bed and finish what they'd started. Todd nodded but said nothing, still eyeing him as he attempted to quell his own passion with deep breathing and iron will, hands balled into fists on his knees. 

Unable to endure his yearning for the alien any longer, and anxious about getting him off Atlantis, John tried to distract himself with the details of their escape. Crossing the room to the built-in bureau, he pulled out several articles of plastic-wrapped clothing. Dropping the crinkling packages on the cot next to the wraith, John returned to the dresser and grabbed a couple of clean, folded bath towels, adding them to the other items on the bed. Eyeing the pile critically for a brief moment, Sheppard picked up one of the towels and thrust it against Todd's bare chest. The wraith reached up and clutched it reflexively, pressing it to him as he watched the human's nervous pacing. John's anxiety level was rising rapidly, the scent of his fading lust already tainted by adrenaline.

“What do you wish me to do?” Todd finally asked. He pitched his question in as low and soothing a rumble as he could manage and pushed imperceptibly past Sheppard's mental boundaries. This was John's scheme, and the wraith needed him clear-headed if it was to succeed. Wallowing in regret and unfulfilled passion wasn't going to help either one of them. 

Sheppard stopped mid-putter on his way back from the closet, brought up short by the calming undercurrent in Todd's voice. Although John immediately realized that the wraith must have slipped into his head for him to have been influenced so dramatically, he really couldn't fault Todd for what he was trying to do. They both needed to look sharp, and John knew he was still too worked up to focus. He placed the boots he was carrying by the cot, then straightened and considered his inquisitive companion. “We need to shower and dress, and get out of here as soon as possible.”

Todd nodded his understanding, then rose from the cot in a single, graceful movement, muscles bunching and shifting under silken skin as he stalked to the bathroom. John could only gape in undisguised admiration, distracted yet again by the wild beauty of the wraith, sleek and dangerous as a big cat. Todd's disheveled, sex-tousled mane only added to the illusion, and a small, wistful sigh escaped on the tail-end of John's next exhalation. He really wished that they weren't under a time constraint, so he could crawl back under the covers with the wraith and spend the day making him purr. 

Groaning inwardly, Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck with a self-deprecating chuckle. While he'd reached the point where he could more readily admit his attraction to Todd, and even act on it, he was nonetheless perplexed by the random gayness that seemed to have sprung full-blown from some hidden wellspring overnight. John hissed through his teeth when his fingers encountered the still-sore lump and scabbed-over wound near his hairline. “I am so screwed,” he murmured, resigning himself to the fact that as a guy who had willingly jumped in the sack with a Wraith, the majority of which were indeed male, these kinds of thoughts probably just came with the territory. As long as he didn't want to start decorating with florals, and stubbornly refused to color-coordinate his clothes, he was probably still okay.

Shaking off the remnants of his pleasant reverie and attendant embarrassment with a sigh, Sheppard realized Todd might need a hand with the unfamiliar shower. With the ATA gene, the shower could be controlled with a thought. The manual controls, however, were difficult to locate and figure out. Grabbing the other towel so he could shave while the wraith was washing, John rapped his knuckles once against the door Todd had left slightly ajar, then pushed it open, surprising the wraith who already had the shower running, and was casually adjusting the temperature with one hand while testing the cascading water with the other. 

Todd rose from his slightly crouched position and twisted to face the human, tilting his head in inquiry. “I'm flattered you apparently can't do without me, Sheppard, but I don't think we'll both fit,” the wraith murmured, a wry smirk playing on his lips as glanced from John to the narrow stall, and back to the human again. 

A grin tugged at the corner of John's mouth as he laid his towel on the edge of the sink. If anyone had told him a week ago he'd be sharing a bathroom with a Wraith, he'd have told them they were crazy. 

“I thought you might need a hand getting the water on and adjusted,” John replied, gesturing vaguely in in the direction of the controls, “You figured things out pretty quickly, though.” He caught Todd's eye and unconsciously mimicked the wraith, tipping his head as he considered him. “They're not intuitive. You'd almost think you'd used them before.” 

Todd smiled mildly in response, the steam starting to turn his hair into tangled, damp ringlets. “The Alterrans left their technology scattered all over both our galaxies, John. You know that. Of course I've encountered controls like this before.” Todd paused for a moment, his enigmatic yellow gaze fixed on the human. When John offered no further comments, the wraith turned and climbed into the shower stall, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Sheppard watched Todd through the cloudy, rippled surface of the shower door, indistinct green shape pouring shampoo into its hand and scrubbing its head. Something about the wraith's glib explanation didn't sit well. 

John pushed the bathroom door wider to vent the billowing steam and wiped condensation from the mirror over the sink with a corner of his towel, wondering what it was, exactly, that twigged him. He wasn't certain if it was the phrasing Todd had used, or the wraith's odd pause afterward, as though he was waiting to see if John believed him. 

Sheppard turned on the tap and leaned down to splash water on his face while he idly rolled the problem over in his head. He jerked upright as the answer came to him in a flash, his wide, startled eyes staring back at him from the streaked mirror as water dripped from his stubbled chin.

He ripped open the shower door as Todd was soaping his powerful shoulders and chest, white suds standing out in sharp contrast against slick green skin. The wraith glanced up at him, the startled amusement in his gaze melting into wariness as he caught a whiff of aggression-soaked adrenaline rolling off the human. Sheppard had put things together a little quicker than he had anticipated. 

“Is this how it's going to be, then: not a moment's peace?” Todd teased lightly, forcing droll humor into his tone in an attempt to diffuse John's growing wrath. Although he knew he could easily overpower the human if necessary, he didn't like the idea of having to fight his way out of the narrow shower stall – and he didn't want to damage Sheppard if he could avoid it.

“You know how to use this technology because you've been on an Ancient City Ship before, and not in the brig,” John snarled accusingly as he glared at the wraith. “It was during the war with the Lantean's, wasn't it?” 

Todd nodded once, carefully, his eyes never leaving Sheppard's. He managed to turn a fraction of an inch, allowing the warm spray to rinse the lather from his torso, preparing to spring if he needed to. 

“Damn it!” Sheppard growled, his grip on the door tightening, “How many Cities did you help destroy? How many Ancients did you kill?”

“Perhaps a better question might be, 'How many Wraith did the Lanteans slaughter, before we finally had enough and fought back?'” The heat of his intense and suddenly-ignited anger overwhelmed Todd, and his lips pulled back from serrated teeth in a challenging snarl before he was able to rein in his temper. This was neither the time nor the place to enlighten Sheppard on the true nature of his beloved Ancients. 

Resettling his features into less aggressive lines, the wraith tried a different tack. “I think you forget sometimes how old I am, Sheppard, and how much I've been a part of ” he began patiently, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. “I think you know too little about the history of my galaxy and what went on there to make any kind of judgment call. The Wraith and your ancestors were enemies...”

“Wait – what? My ancestors? What are you talking about?” Taken off-guard, Sheppard's brow furrowed in belligerent confusion.

“You were born with the Ancient gene, were you not?”

John nodded slowly as comprehension dawned. “Oh.”

Todd gave him a long look before continuing. “The war between the Lanteans and the Wraith raged bitterly for many years. As a wraith and a warrior, of course I fought against the humans who sought to eradicate us, as you would seek to overcome an enemy that was attacking you, your home, your kin. I was proud to do so. Noticed for my unusual tactics when engaging the enemy, promoted for my ability to survive battle after battle, I eventually rose to command a fleet of Hives under a fierce and vicious Queen.” 

“When we managed to cripple and ground – not destroy – one of the Lantean's City-ships, which was quite a coup, you can be certain I walked its halls for my Queen's Glory. After gutting it of whatever technology the Lanteans weren't quick enough to destroy or delete, and all but one of its ZPM's, my Queen gifted me with the City, and the human survivors, as a reward for bringing down such a valuable prize. My crew and I enjoyed the many pleasures we found there for quite some time.”

The corners of Todd's mouth tightened, as though trying to keep from smiling at a fond memory, and John's anger, which had been cooling as the wraith spoke in soothing, measured tones, flared again. 

“Damn it!” John practically howled. He could too clearly envision the current residents of Atlantis helpless and in the hands of a couple of Hives-full of invading Wraith. “They were people, Todd, not 'gifts!'”

“They were the enemy, and at that point, spoils of war,” the wraith replied simply. “They were ours to do with whatever we wished.”

His knuckles turning white as he forcefully gripped the shower door, John struggled to contain the rage tightening like a steel band around his chest as he glared up at the wraith. He wondered at what point his life had so severely careened off the tracks, that listening to his psychopathic, serial-killer, alien boyfriend casually relating a ten-thousand year old tale of heinous war crimes he'd perpetrated, could even remotely be considered normal.

A memory rose, unbidden, in Sheppard's mind, and before he could veer away from it - lock it away again - he was, for a brief moment, transported to a compound in Afghanistan. A small collection of mud-colored buildings huddled behind a sandblasted wall. Not a Taliban stronghold like they'd thought when they first attacked it, they didn't back off, even once they realized it. An extended family, mostly women, children, and old men, dead, and stacked like so much cordwood in one of the smaller buildings. The bodies and hovels ransacked of weapons, valuables and trinkets. His men took advantage of a couple of days of well-deserved R&R as they lounged in the courtyard, smoking and playing cards, or rolling dice for the small pile of meager treasures heaped nearby. They got to sleep on real beds for a change, and enjoyed cooking and eating real food instead of MRE's. When the larder was finally bare and the corpses had begun to stink, they torched the place then moved on, erasing all evidence they'd been there. A brief respite from the war, that by unspoken agreement was never mentioned again. 

From Todd's narrowed eyes, John knew he'd plucked that vision right out of his head. In fact, the wraith probably didn't even have go in after it, John had probably handed it to him. Ashamed, Sheppard looked away. 

With a snort and a knowing smirk, the wraith risked reaching out and shutting off the shower. The ringing silence after the low roar of the water was deafening. 

Counting on some courtesies being so deeply ingrained as to be automatic, the alien reached for the towel hanging on the bar by the shower, and sure enough, Sheppard let go of the door and moved aside to let him do so. Todd slowly wrapped it around his waist as he stepped out of the stall and past the suddenly-thoughtful human. The wraith enjoyed their verbal sparring matches and often took pleasure in John's discomfiture, but Sheppard looked decidedly defeated and smelled of alarm, and Todd knew despair when he encountered it. 

Responding to the human's pheromones and the instinctive desire to protect his Brother, Todd reached out and gently ran his hand down Sheppard's damp cheek. He took a moment to revel in the sensation of the human's bristles sanding his palm, even as he short-circuited John's self-loathing with the unexpected caress. 

“I see you understand, after all” he murmured as he cupped John's chin and gazed into the man's pain-filled hazel eyes. He realized in that moment that yet again, Sheppard's outburst was more about running from his own demons than confronting the one standing before him. 

A surge of tenderness caught the wraith off-guard. Wishing to ease the human's mind if he could, he offered the only solace a millennia-old creature knew how to offer: the harsh reality of truth. Cold comfort, indeed, but in the echoing vastness of countless centuries, once excuses and ego fell away, it was the only thing that stood the test of time. “In the midst of war – in the heat of battle, we follow courses of action we would not choose otherwise. And yet, looking back, the circumstances dictated no other response than the one we gave.”

Held still by the wraith's hand framing his jaw, John could clearly see that there was no judgment in the wraith's face, only acceptance. Here, at last, was someone who got it – who understood what being a warrior – a commander - really meant. Someone who understood the decisions made for the sake of your men, to keep them safe and sane in the midst of insanity - and the cost. That his champion came in the form of an ancient alien bothered him less than he would have imagined. 

Todd searched John's face, watching the dying embers of Sheppard's rage and shame collapsing in on themselves as the human calmed under his touch. “I will make no apologies for my actions of over ten thousand years ago, nor will I lie to you about them. It was a long time ago, and I have come to understand things differently in the intervening years – as I am sure you have done, as well.”

At that very moment, the wraith desired nothing more than to draw Sheppard into an embrace, as if that would somehow save the human from himself. Instead, he leaned in and planted a soft, careful kiss on Sheppard's pliant lips, then pulled back and gave him a wistful smile. “A word of advice, John Sheppard,” he whispered, breath ghosting over the human's cheek, “In the future, if you don't think you'll like the answer, you may not want to ask me the question. It will save us both a lot of grief.” The wraith stroked Sheppard's stubble with his thumb one last time, then let his hand fall away. 

John nodded in agreement. “You might be right,” he murmured. He forced a small crooked grin, trying to let Todd know he was alright. The wraith's unguarded expression of tender concern sent a thrill through Sheppard, even as it astonished him that Todd had once again lowered his defenses enough for it to show. Responding in kind, John loosened the tight leash he usually kept on his affection for the wraith, and let it reflect in his face as he smiled more genuinely up at his tall companion. 

The alien's eyes widened slightly, and John watched in amazement as Todd visibly shifted gears, backtracking from the moment of intimacy. In the blink of an eye, he looked down at the human from behind a mask of bemused indifference, making John wonder if he'd actually seen what he thought he had. 

The wraith flashed a fierce, feral grin then turned away. “There is one thing I have not changed my mind about,” he tossed back as he sauntered casually out of the bathroom, “These Ancient Cities are still good for a nice hot shower.”

John leaned back against the sink, arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the wraith rustling plastic bags in the other room. He ran the entire conversation through his head several times, weighing words and body language, trying to figure out how his righteous indignation had been so easily-derailed yet again. He wondered at the strange gentleness in the wraith's manner just when John had needed it – and the alien's abrupt departure.

As much as he didn't like it, Sheppard knew all his arguments were being blown out of the water lately because of his own realizations, and it was all because of the wraith. Todd had a way of cutting through all the bullshit and smokescreens John threw in the way and simply helped him see the truth, making Sheppard face hard realities about himself he'd been hiding from for years. John figured being repeatedly-hoisted on his own petard was what he got for hanging around with a guy who admitted to being at least as old as the end of Earth's Ice Age. 

As for the last bit, when he had thought he and Todd were sharing a moment and the wraith had bailed, John could only conjecture at what might being going on in the alien's head. They'd been going at it pretty hot and heavy this morning before they were so rudely interrupted by Sheppard's watch. Maybe the wraith had simply backed off before he started getting revved up again. Or maybe Todd was having second thoughts about the whole thing. After all, being with John meant he was technically playing with his food. 

Or – worse-case scenario, maybe the wraith had been disappointed. John had never been with a man – or a male... anything, before last night. Although he had understood, in theory, what they'd been trying for, in practice, he'd had only a vague idea of what he was supposed to be doing. Even though the wraith had seemed like he was enjoying himself, perhaps John had done something wrong. 

John scrubbed a hand over his face, doing his best not to think about that possibility. 

All Sheppard knew was that it was going to take a while before he completely came to terms with his own raging hard-on for a male wraith, operative word: male _and_ wraith. Although, those tantalizing glimpses of tender, raw emotion Todd kept teasing him with definitely helped. That, and the hope that Todd might want to do more of the deliciously filthy things he'd done to John the night before, certainly made him want to bend over and take whatever the wraith felt like dishing out. Sheppard's cheeks burned scarlet as he faced himself in the mirror and admitted _that_ to his reflection.

Trying to regain his composure, John sighed and turned on the tap. They made quite a pair – he and the wraith, although a pair of what, he wasn't quite sure.

Acknowledging to himself how far out of his league he was, Sheppard finally just shook his head and reached for the shaving cream.


	10. Perfect Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the move again after their life-altering night together, Todd and John race against time to reach the Jumper Bay, and the next stage in Sheppard's plan to help the wraith escape Atlantis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Perfect Trust_ took me six weeks to write, and it was like pulling teeth without Novocaine every step of the way. All I had to do was get Todd and John from Sheppard's room to the Jumper Bay, and do you think I could do that? No. I had so many false starts and plot that careened off the beaten path that had to be reeled back in, I thought I was going to tear my hear out with frustration. 
> 
> The good news is that I now have folders full of plot bunnies and large sections of text saved for later chapters and other stories, so I suppose it was worth it.
> 
> Lots of sweet little moments between the boys, and some head canon regarding Wraith telepathy and the nature of Darts.

The pair resumed their trek across the Ancient City, keeping to the less-traveled routes as John planned, and navigating what felt, to the wraith, like every damaged corridor and barely-manageable flight of stairs on Atlantis they hadn't gotten to the night before. Todd doggedly followed close behind as they made their way through the early-morning darkness in subdued silence, concealing his growing concern over the human's suddenly-reserved attitude and the scent of distress John was giving off. 

Their destination was eventually going to be the Jumper Bay, but first they needed to make a slight detour. At least that's what Sheppard had told him - not that Todd could tell if they were heading in the right direction or not. He was so turned around by their indirect path, he was once again reduced to following the human on blind faith. 

To pass the time, the wraith periodically posed innocuous questions, trying to draw out his companion as he attempted to break the increasing tension. Each was met with a short, terse answer designed to discourage further discussion, but Todd took the rebuffs in stride. He suspected he already knew what Sheppard's problem was, and that he had been the cause.

Flashlight in hand, Sheppard led the way through Atlantis' corridors, doing his best to stuff down his anxiety and unanswered questions as he shrugged off Todd's attempts at conversation. He had spent his entire shower second-guessing himself - and the wraith, and while he hadn't come to any conclusions, John _had_ managed to tie his own stomach into knots. After facing too much about himself in too short a span of time, then falling into bed with the dangerously alluring alien, Sheppard knew he was already in way over his head when it came to this thing with Todd. The last thing John needed was confirmation from the wraith that he might have changed his mind. That kind of revelation could wait... forever, or at least until after he got Todd safely off Atlantis. 

They eventually stopped at a recessed section of wall in the curve of an interior corridor. Partially-shielded by a stand of potted trees, it was little more than a shadowed niche. 

“Stay here,” Sheppard advised, catching Todd's eye. “I have to pick something up. I'll be back soon.” In darkness barely relieved by the light of a single flashlight beam, the look that passed between them spoke volumes about their still-tenuous alliance - then John was gone. 

That had been almost twenty minutes ago. 

The sun rose while the wraith lingered, although other than as an indicator of how late it was growing, it made very little difference. A thick, insulating layer of fog had rolled in overnight, blanketing San Francisco and obscuring the cold, grey dawn as it crept timidly through Atlantis. The uncertain illumination barely brightened its interior, leaving most of the Ancient ship in relative darkness.

Deep in the labyrinthine halls of the City, with only the diffused glow from cross-corridors ending in windows to lift the gloom, Todd took full advantage of the twilit dimness. He stepped back into the darkened alcove where he waited and became one with the shadows, as he picked up the distant cadence of footsteps briskly approaching his hiding spot. This was the second such encroachment. The first had been one of the military, who stank of metabolized alcohol and sex as they tiptoed by in stockinged feet, boots in-hand.

From what he could discern by listening to the pumping of blood and the working of lungs, this one was a solitary traveler as well, easily-dispatched should the need arise. The wraith scented the air and thought he detected... chemicals of some kind? Antiseptic? It could be a doctor or a scientist heading home from an overnight shift – not that it would matter if they became a problem. 

Todd eased himself into a slight crouch, alert and ready, flexing his arms against the unfamiliar tug of his new leather jacket as it stretched across his back. It fit well enough, this larger version of the one Sheppard had been wearing when they first met - just differently than his coat. In fact, other than his considered opinion on the insubstantial nature of fabric clothing in general, the wraith had been surprised at how much the human garments had pleased him. The black fatigues and tank top in which he was attired were both acceptable, and a backpack lay near his feet containing the remainder of the Satedan's offerings for later wear. 

He glanced down to check the bag's location and his gaze lingered on another, much better acquisition than a sackful of clothes. Boots – good ones, that fit him surprisingly well. They'd been an unexpected donation. Of Wraith origins, not human, they must have been a trophy the Runner had taken off one of his kills. With his heightened sense of smell, Todd could detect a faint odor of death still clinging to them, although he knew it would quickly fade now that they were being worn again.

The muted sounds of a stumble and a muffled curse refocused the wraith's attention on the lone human drawing nearer. 

He also knew that with the coming day, the halls of Atlantis would shortly grow too crowded to move about freely. Concerned that he'd be trapped within the City if they didn't reach their destination soon, Todd wondered - not for the first time - where the hell Sheppard had gotten to, and when he was coming back. 

Todd's train of thought was derailed when the sharp, unpleasant odor which had been slowly building, suddenly overwhelmed his senses. At the same moment, Sheppard padded around the corner on sneakered feet. In his arms he carried a covered white box from which, the wraith surmised, the stench was emanating. No wonder he hadn't been able to tell it was John, the smell had completely masked the human's scent.

Relief lit Sheppard's face in spite of the insecurity that continued to plague him, when he caught sight of Todd lurking in the shadows. A small, hesitant smile, not much more than a slight stretching of lips and crinkling at the corners of his eyes, softened John's guarded features as he sidled up to the waiting alien.

Dropping his defensive stance, Todd rose to his full height again. “Sheppard,” he rumbled quietly in greeting. He gazing down at his companion in perplexed curiosity, his nose involuntarily wrinkling at the noisome aroma. “What is that? It smells terrible.”

John glanced down at the container with a puzzled frown of his own, then back up at Todd. “Really? I can hardly smell a thing.” Without missing a beat, the Colonel crossed the silent corridor and carefully stowed the box out of sight behind a column before returning to the wraith's side. 

“Sorry about that,” John murmured, “I don't smell anything other than a little whiff of rubbing alcohol.” He leaned down and picked up the bag by Todd's foot, automatically doing a quick check of the fastenings before handing it to the wraith. “What does it smell like to you?”

“Old death and chemicals,” Todd replied, his fingertips grazing the human's as he took the straps from Sheppard's hand and slid the backpack onto his shoulder. At the contact, John glanced up at his tall companion then away with studied nonchalance. His forced indifference confirmed the wraith's suspicions, and Todd inwardly cursed his badly-handled retreat in Sheppard's quarters earlier. His clumsy handling of his paramour's feelings had left John questioning this new layer of their developing bond.

Far from wanting to pull away, the wraith had been drawn in when John had mentally reached for him, tugging on one of the fine threads that linked them. He was sure Sheppard wasn't even aware he'd done it, but Todd had felt the connection flare to life, nonetheless. Caught off-guard, he'd shut down the conduit between them immediately and backed away, certain that if Sheppard had sensed it, the wraith would have been accused of instigating it. 

John had barely reached the point where he was willing to share his body. His mind, Todd knew, was still off-limits. While the wraith held out hope that John would eventually accept that deeper level of intimacy, for the moment the human was decidedly uncomfortable with it, even though Sheppard was already unwittingly initiating contact. 

If only they'd had more time, Todd would have been able to explain. As it was, elucidation would have to wait until they reached safer ground - assuming they did. For all he knew, they might not; the success of John's plan was far from guaranteed. 

What concerned the wraith more, was that Sheppard once again looked and smelled as skittish and unsure as he had last night, before they'd reached his quarters. Todd feared that if the human's self-doubt was left to fester for too long, it would undo all the progress they'd made. With their future so precarious already, the wraith was unwilling to leave reconciliation until later, even if he couldn't offer explanations. He'd only just secured Sheppard; he didn't want a wedge driven between them – at least not so soon. Life would provide enough opportunities for that down the road.

Turning thought into action, Todd bridged the gap, resting a clawed hand on the back of Sheppard's neck. Strong fingers squeezed gently – affectionately - as the human turned away. John stopped and looked back expectantly, his expression closed and wary.

The wraith slowly massaged John's neck, letting his touch at that single point of contact convey his feelings, as he paused for a moment and assessed his consort. Sheppard was dressed in clothing Todd had never seen him in before today. Close-fitting pants made of rough, dark blue fabric showed off the Colonel's trim physique in an appealing way. _Jeans_ , John had called them. A thin grey jacket over a red-and-grey plaid shirt made from some sort of soft, fuzzy cloth, and a black t-shirt completed the look. 

“I must admit, it is very strange to see you in something other than your uniform,” the wraith rumbled quietly, his voice warm and approving.

John's reserve, which had been faltering in the wake of the impromptu neck rub, crumbled at Todd's unexpected comment and the tenderness in his tone. Sheppard sighed, and a layer of tension he hadn't wanted to admit he was carrying melted away. Why the wraith had scuttled away earlier remained a mystery, but the fact that he had spared a moment to reconnect went a long way toward reassuring John that Todd still wanted him, after all. 

Slightly embarrassed by the fact that all it had taken to restore his equilibrium was Todd reaching for him, a relieved grin split Sheppard's face, nonetheless, as he raked the alien from head-to-foot with an obvious once-over. “I could say the same about you,” he drawled, an ironically-amused gleam in his eye just visible in the growing light.

A pleased smirk played at the corner of the wraith's mouth. He glanced down at himself, a quiet wheeze of a chuckle escaping his lips. “True enough, John Sheppard.”

Accord reestablished, the pair started off down the corridor, Sheppard pausing just long enough to grab the odious box from its hiding place. He settled it on the hip opposite the side Todd was on, stealing an apologetic glance at the wraith as he did so. “That's as far away from you as I can get it. Sorry.”

“What is it, and why do we need it?” The wraith asked in hushed tones, curiosity still unsatisfied from the last time he'd inquired.

“Well, your comment about 'old death and chemicals' was actually pretty accurate,” John whispered back. “It's preserved Wraith specimens I got from Dr. Keller.”

Todd stopped in his tracks, vaguely alarmed by John's casual admission that the humans had been cutting up their captives. “What are you planning on doing with pieces of my dissected brethren, Sheppard?” He finally ground out, narrowed golden eyes betraying his unease. 

Now that he knew they were on solid ground, John was undaunted by the wraith's displeasure. He walked back the few paces that separated him from Todd and slid his free hand around the other's upper arm. “Let's just say that if anyone's looking that closely, this should throw them off the track.” It was Sheppard's turn to squeeze tenderly, which he did, although he made little-to-no impression in the rock-hard muscle hidden beneath the leather. Todd continued to glare down at him, unmoved by his reassurance. 

John sighed and tried again. “Look, I'm sorry we have cut-up Wraith in our freezer. If it's any consolation, I didn't do any of it personally.” He met the wraith's gaze squarely. “Please, just roll with it for a little longer. You've trusted me this far. This is all going to make sense once we make it to the Jumper Bay.” 

Todd ruminated for another moment, then with a nod of assent he allowed the slight pressure of Sheppard's hand on his arm to propel him forward once again. Human and wraith moved as swiftly and silently as they could through the City after that, trying to make up for the accumulated time they'd lost in five- and ten-minute intervals since they'd awakened. 

Unfortunately, with the Jumper Bay located directly above the Gate Room, they were forced into using more well-traveled corridors the closer they got. The good news was that these sections of Atlantis had power - after a fashion - so they no longer needed the flashlight. The bad news was that in spite of the early hour, the City was already coming to life around them. With increasing frequency they had to lay low and wait for individuals or small groups to pass by and clear the area before they could move on. In desperation they started taking chances, cutting across hallways that were not empty, but whose occupants were facing the other way. 

Their luck almost ran out when they practically stumbled into a knot of soldiers loitering at the last nexus point the pair needed to cross before reaching the Jumper Bay. 

With a gasp, John slammed it in reverse and backpedaled into Todd's chest, and the two of them scrambled back around the corner just as one of the Marines looked up from adjusting the strap on his knife sheath. The boy frowned at the odd noise he might or might not have heard above the rip of velcro. He paused and listened, finally deciding it must have been his imagination when it wasn't repeated, and with a dismissive shrug went back to what he was doing. 

Meanwhile, around the corner, two figures paused to catch their breath and wait out the adrenaline rush. Backs pressed against the wall, John listened to the idle chatter of the group. In one arm he clutched the styrofoam box, trying to keep it from squeaking in his grip; his other arm he had protectively stretched across Todd's midsection, instinctively keeping the wraith behind him. 

The alien gazed down at the pale hand pressed palm-down against his dark shirt, watching it gently rise and fall with his breath as he listened, too. While the Marines were talking about game scores and females, they were _thinking_ , with varying degrees of frustration, about one of their number who was running late. The group would leave as soon as their tardy member arrived. 

Once again Todd chafed at the restriction Sheppard had placed on the wraith's ability to bespeak the human's mind. If he was free to do so, he could let John know they didn't have long to wait, instead of standing by helplessly while Sheppard's anxiety-level soared skyward.

Perhaps he could get the human to meet him halfway. Hoping their need for silence and the urgency of his message might give him the edge he needed to get his companion to open up a little bit, Todd trailed tentative fingertips over the back of the hand resting against his abdomen. John glanced back sharply, first at the offending digits then up to meet the wraith's eyes. Todd looked at him meaningfully, cat's eyes flicking in the direction of the Marines then back to the Colonel. John frowned and tilted his head questioningly. 

Taking the movement as the closest thing to permission he was going to get, Todd risked reaching out telepathically. _'Sheppard.'_

John glared up at the alien, his frown deepening at the intrusion although it had been little more than a murmur in his head. His lips moved, automatically beginning to shape a verbal response, but a wraith finger pressed against them warned Sheppard to silence before he could speak. 

_'There are too many of them, and they are too close,'_ the bedroom voice whispered in his mind. _'If you wish to speak to me, take my hand.'_

Before Sheppard could even register confusion at that remark, a mental image appeared in his mind's eye of a Wraith hand, palm up, fingers relaxed and open. Other than the claw-like nails and the raised seam of a sealed maw, it was just a hand - waiting to be taken and held. 

Uncertain hazel eyes searched inhuman gold, seeking reassurance or some sort of flicker of emotion that would indicate it was safe to proceed. The wraith merely gazed back, still and waiting. It was important to him that John feel like he had a hand in shaping his own destiny, and allowing his human Brother the luxury of choice was an integral part of that. 

Of course Todd wanted it all right away - wanted John to trust him enough to consent to this, but he was beyond taking the Colonel's refusals personally. Sheppard would reach for him or he wouldn't, and if he declined this time, the wraith would simply try again later. Experience had shown him that even as stubborn as he was, John could successfully be nudged in the right direction a step at a time. It had taken three years of concerted effort and a crisis, but they had finally reached the point where Sheppard could admit to his feelings. Confident that eventually John would succumb to him in this, as well, the wraith was once again prepared to be as patient as necessary for as long as needed.

Todd sensed that at the very least, Sheppard had calmed somewhat, proving the wraith's unexpected invitation had distracted his companion from the situation at-hand. John actually choosing to initiate a mental connection was another story, and seemed less and less likely to happen as the moment stretched between them. 

In fact, almost as soon as the thought occurred to the wraith, Sheppard slowly shook his head _no_ , although Todd thought he caught a glimpse of longing behind the human's tense features, that seemed to say he wished it was otherwise. Todd wondered what could possibly be behind Sheppard's strangely dichotomous response, and promised himself that once they were safely away from Atlantis, he was going to try and find out. For the moment, though, the most important thing was to accept John's decision.

Hiding his disappointment, Todd contented himself with hovering at the edge of Sheppard's mind. In all honesty, the wraith didn't need full access to John's head to simply deliver a message, so with the lightest of touches, he barely skimmed past the human's consciousness and let him know that the soldiers would be leaving shortly. 

John acknowledged the alien's communication with a small smile. He relaxed against the wall by degrees, grateful for both the welcome news, and that Todd hadn't pushed something he wasn't ready to deal with. Sheppard knew his restrictions on telepathy slowed things down, but this wasn't the time or the place to risk opening them both up to a world of hurt. He was just glad the wraith had accepted that for the moment this was how it needed to be. 

Focusing on the glittering eyes that watched him intently, Sheppard tapped his watch pointedly, tipping his head in inquiry. Todd nodded and effortlessly drew what he needed from the young men in the hall. _'It should not be much longer. They have sent a detachment to fetch him.'_ Then the wraith paused, his eyes downcast and inwardly focused, while he cast his mind farther afield seeking additional information. 

John closed his eyes and gingerly pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, rubbing gently. As much as he hated having to actually talk about his feelings, he and Todd were going to have to have a conversation once they got free of the City. 

Thankfully, at least one of them wasn't afraid of expressing his emotions. 

While the alien held him in this way, barely but very definitely in his head – and distracted - Sheppard could faintly pick up some of the wraith's unguarded feelings. Most prevalent was Todd's fierce possessiveness of him. It wasn't scary. Well, yeah – it was. It was pretty intense. But it was intensely protective, as if to say that John was his, and no one better touch him or the wraith would kick some serious ass. 

It felt kind of nice, actually. Safe. Cocooned in the wraith's mental embrace, Sheppard allowed himself to settle into it an inch at a time, as he watched, fascinated in spite of himself, while his - what was it Todd had call him? Consort... while his consort used those finely-tuned hunting skills of his to track his prey. 

A few minutes later Todd looked up to find Sheppard considering him with a slightly bemused expression on his face. The wraith smirked knowingly. He didn't need a telepathic link to discern what John was thinking. Pheromones said it all. 

When the wraith roused, John expectantly canted his eyes up to meet the other's, a satisfied smile playing on his lips when he noticed Todd's reaction. He kind of liked that he could make the wraith respond to him like that, now that he knew what to look for – the almost-imperceptible flare of nostrils as he took in Sheppard's scent, his eyes darkening momentarily with desire. 

Suppressing a sigh, Sheppard grudgingly dragged his attention away from the distracting wraith and back to their stalled escape. With a slight lift of his chin, he wordlessly asked for Todd's report.

_'They are on their way.'_

No sooner had John nodded his understanding, than the subdued early-morning camaraderie of several boisterous young soldiers desperately trying to use their indoor voices and failing, could be heard drawing closer. They joined their companions, unceremoniously tossing the truant into the middle of the group to undergo a little good-natured ribbing. After receiving what sounded like an authoritative whack upside his head from the most senior among them for making them all late, the Marines wasted no time in mobilizing and vacating the lobby. 

Human and wraith listened as the clatter of boots on stairs finally gave way to ringing silence.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sheppard pushed away from the wall. “It's about damn time,” he growled, as the pair darted across the open gallery to the corridor beyond. 

“I see it was a real challenge for you to remain quiet for so long,” Todd observed mildly from behind him. He understood John was relieved at not having to rely on mind-to-mind communication, but in spite of the wraith's failed first attempt to get Sheppard to consciously link with him telepathically, he withdrew from Sheppard's mind with a stab of regret. John had never before tolerated him in his head for such an extended period of time, and he had no idea when the human might be willing to try again.

John gave the wraith a sidelong glance. While he hadn't actually felt Todd pull away, he was suddenly aware of his absence in his head. Sheppard felt strangely bereft at the loss; the alien's presence had been oddly comforting. “I think you have me confused with Rodney,” he quipped. “I'm almost certain he wouldn't have been able to do it.”

“I would have to agree with your assessment, having worked with him on several occasions. I must admit that more than once I was tempted to feed on him just to shut him up.”

Todd chuckled when John's eyes widened in alarm. “Not to worry, Sheppard. I was only joking.”

“What was that? A little Wraith humor?”

The wraith nodded, still grinning. “Indeed.”

John snorted and shook his head. Leave it to him to take up with a Wraith who thought he was funny. Not that Sheppard minded all that much. Mostly Todd was funny – at least John thought so, and the wraith had a fine appreciation for Sheppard's dry brand of humor, as well, so at least they kept each other amused. There were times, though, when the wraith's jokes took some getting used to.

The corridor they were in was short and turned sharply, opening into a larger gallery beyond. Sheppard motioned for silence as they pulled up to this last corner. Todd eyed him curiously, but scenting a human close by, he took up his place against the wall behind Sheppard without question. John looked over his shoulder at the alien. “I need you to do that Wraith thing you do,” he whispered.

Todd considered Sheppard for a long moment while a myriad of possibilities crowded his brain. Chief among them was feeding, of course, although he seriously doubted John was requesting he do that. Figuring it was probably better to clarify, the wraith gazed down at his companion, a glint of amusement in his eye. “Sheppard,” he murmured, “Exactly _which_ Wraith thing do you require?”

It took a minute, but eventually a frown creased Sheppard's brow as comprehension dawned. “No,” he hissed, glowering up at the alien, “Not _that_ Wraith thing.” John gestured vaguely in the direction of their destination. “Throw a phantom – or whatever it is you call it. We need the guard to step away from the Jumper Bay door so we can slip inside.”

Todd nodded, suppressing a smirk. It was almost too easy to get John going – and the guard, for that matter. Even before the wraith completed the movement of his head, the terse challenge of 'Who goes there?' rang out clearly in the early morning stillness, followed by the sound of booted feet trotting away from them.

Sheppard cautiously peered around the corner at the deserted corridor, then signaled Todd to follow. They crossed the open space and reached the heavy Ancient portal in a matter of seconds. As hopelessly jammed as the retracted iris far above the tiers of gateships in the cavernous bay, it stood partially-open, the gap making a mockery of its solid construction and armored plating. John had never been so thankful for damage and malfunctions in all his life, as he had been in the past day. Relieved that he didn't have to figure a way past yet another locked door, Sheppard kept watch while the wraith slithered through the narrow opening. 

Once John wriggled through, as well, he wasted no time in grabbing Todd's arm and tugging the wraith off to the side. Sheppard knew the guard wouldn't be gone for long, and he wanted to get them as far away from the direct line-of-sight of the open doorway as he could, as quickly as possible. The alien seemed to concur, allowing John to guide him across the hangar toward the ground-level bay which held Puddle Jumper One, their get-away car for this little adventure. 

As they rounded the bulk of Jumper One on their way to its rear hatch, Todd came to a sudden stop, pulling John up short. An audible hiss of surprise escaped the wraith's lips. “My ship,” he breathed, taking in the unlikely sight of a Wraith Dart wedged into the open space between Jumpers One and Two. He slipped Sheppard's grip and strode forward, running a careful hand along the Dart's hull. “It looks like it's almost completely regenerated,” he said, glancing up at John, who watched him from the sidelines. “How did it get here?”

“The Daedalus recovered it from that rock you crash-landed on after they picked you up. Caldwell had it beamed into one of the docking bays.” A lopsided grin tugged at Sheppard's mouth. “I think he regretted it from the minute he did it. All he did for the rest of the trip was complain about how much energy the damn thing was siphoning from the Daedalus, and how he kept having to recalibrate power distribution to account for it.”

Todd nodded as he leaned against the side of the Dart to inspect its cockpit. The ship, keyed to respond to Wraith DNA just as the Jumpers were to the ATA gene, came to life at the wraith's silent command. 

“I am not surprised,” he replied absently as he assessed the readings the diagnostics program offered. “Our Fighters are built for speed and maneuverability. In order to achieve that, we have had to sacrifice most of their shielding. Oftentimes when they are hit, they take too much damage to regenerate. However, if they are able, and have a power-source great enough to accommodate, they will – and quickly.” 

“Much like the Wraith, themselves,” John observed quietly. 

Just when he thought he'd gotten his head firmly around how dangerous and deadly Todd really was, moments like these made him realize how wide the gap was between knowing it and truly accepting it. The toothy, feral grin of approval the other flashed him in response didn't help. “Too bad you couldn't just plug yourselves into a power supply to juice up, like the Dart did.”

Todd chuckled as he bent to check the left rear quadrant of the ship, which had received the brunt of the damage, “Well, technically, we do.” 

The silence that greeted his remark made him glance over at the human, who was looking ill-at-ease and unable to meet his eyes. Ah, John Sheppard. His fierce one, his brave one – so much like a Wraith in so many ways, sometimes Todd forgot himself and spoke too freely. The wraith straightened and considered him for a moment. He could tell he'd gone too far. “I know it would certainly soothe your conscience if I had another option,” he offered softly. 

John nodded slowly, his lips tightening for a moment before he spoke. “Yeah, of course it would, but you don't have another option.”

“No.”

Sheppard sighed heavily. The styrofoam box squeaked in his grasp, reminding him he still held it. He set it down in the shadow of the Puddle Jumper, then met the wraith's eyes as he stood, disquiet evident in his expression. 

“Listen,” John began hesitantly after a moment's pause, “I've been thinking. I might have less of a problem with this if you tried not to prey on innocent people. You think it would be possible for you to just stick to eating the bad guys?”

Todd eyed him, suddenly wary. What was this? More limits? More promises? He had already promised Sheppard to stay out of his head, which he'd done – for the most part. He had promised the human that he would not feed on any of the Lanteans in the Ancient City and he'd kept his word. Now John wanted to impose more restrictions on him, right before he was about to be let loose in a teeming Earth city whose inhabitants had never even heard of Hoff, never mind the deadly drug their scientists had created? It was like being told the feast was ready, and then being prevented from sitting at the table. 

For a moment Todd was tempted to refuse outright, but he knew Sheppard had already crossed so many lines to even reach this point of acceptance, the wraith couldn't bring himself to do it. Reluctantly, he decided to hear him out.

“The bad guys,” the wraith repeated as he came around the tail-end of his craft. He folded his arms across his chest, leather creaking as he did so, and leaned back against the Dart, “How would you define 'the bad guys'?”

From the growl in Todd's voice, John could tell the alien wasn't happy Sheppard was tugging on the leash. John probably wouldn't have been happy either, if the tables were turned. 

It was nice of the wraith to hear him out in spite of his reticence, since they both knew Sheppard really couldn't _make_ Todd do anything he didn't want to. Although it was understood that once he agreed to something, the wraith's word was good. Todd had already made a number of concessions he'd acquiesced to for John's sake, some of the promises several years old. 

Sheppard could only hope that for his sake, the wraith would agree to this, as well. That Todd would feed was a foregone conclusion, but John needed to be able to sleep at night, too. If he could sell the idea that was kicking around in his head, it would definitely minimize the danger to the general public, on a lot of levels. He just hoped the wraith was buying.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, affecting a casual attitude he didn't feel, “Murderers, rapists. Humans who hurt and kill other humans without remorse - people you're going to want to clear out of your territory, anyway.” John risked another quick glance at Todd, who had stilled and was watching him closely, a dangerous gleam kindling in golden eyes. Seeing that he'd piqued the wraith's interest, Sheppard continued. “They're basically other predators. You're not going to want them competing with you – trying to cull your herd.”

Intrigued in spite of himself, the wraith's eyes narrowed. “Are there many humans like that in this city?” 

John nodded. “I don't have exact numbers, but there are probably lots of humans like that in every major city, with more pouring in all the time. You're not going to run out of them anytime soon, if that's what you're concerned about.” He met Todd's gaze squarely, braving the wraith's openly-hungry stare as few humans could without flinching. 

“Believe me, there's always going to be plenty of wolves among the sheep, and you are uniquely-qualified to find them - wherever they're hiding.” Sheppard tapped his temple meaningfully. “And best of all, once engaged, they'll most likely be desperate and violent, so you'll be able to keep your tracking and fighting skills sharp.” He managed to finish with a conspiratorial grin. “They should make for interesting Hunts.” 

There. It was all laid out on the table, the whole distasteful plan. The last thing John wanted to do was point the wraith in _anyone's_ general direction, but he had to throw someone under the bus, and he'd rather it be other killers as opposed to average people just trying to live ordinary lives. 

The wraith regarded him quietly for a moment, the expression of hunger fading to fondness, and a smile of amused disbelief growing as John watched. “You've done it again, John Sheppard.”

“What? What have I done?” John asked, confounded and frowning.

“You know just how to talk to me,” Todd murmured softly, wonder coloring his voice. “How could I possibly refuse an offer like the one you've placed before me? No Wraith could; it sounds too intriguing. Of course I will agree to your conditions.” 

“Thank you,” John whispered gratefully, exhaling a whole lot of tension, although he wasn't sure if he was actually relieved or not. People were still going to die, but at least Todd had said he would leave the _good_ citizens of San Francisco alone. That was something.

The wraith acknowledged John's gratitude with a nod, then pushed himself away from the side of his ship. “Now that you have secured my promise to hunt only the evil-doers, I believe we should get back to the escape part of the plan. Deciding who I can and cannot feed upon is purely an academic exercise unless I actually get away from the City.” 

Sheppard glanced at his watch, his eyes widening in shocked surprise. “Damn. We don't have much time.” He turned to the wraith, all-business in spite of the anxiety Todd could feel rolling off him. “Will the Dart fly?”

“Yes, my ship has recovered enough to fly. Is that the plan? Am I flying myself out of here?”

John nodded, then shook his head. “Yes. I mean, no.”

“They are mutually-exclusive answers, Sheppard. Which is it?”

“Smartass,” John grumbled. “Yes, the Dart is going to fly. No, you're not flying yourself out of here.”

The wraith's eyes narrowed in frustration. “Please explain.”

“The F-302's can be rigged to carry out automatic maneuvers, preprogrammed commands. Basically, auto-pilot without a pilot. I kind of figured your Fighters were the same way. They are, right?”

Todd nodded slowly, watching the human closely and waiting for his unfolding plan to make sense. “Yes.”

A relieved smile split John's face. “Good.” He wrapped his hand around the wraith's leather-clad bicep and led him back toward the Dart. “Then this is what we're going to do...”


	11. Wing and a Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces of John's plan start falling into place as he and Todd, and Teyla and Ronon, converge on the Jumper Bay. All Sheppard has to do now is keep it from falling apart again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put this chapter together in four weeks very quick weeks of almost-obsessive writing. Between all the research I did on Atlantis' Puddle Jumper schematics, real fighters jets' speeds and the different missiles they use as reference points for the F-302s, the location of Air Force Bases near San Francisco and scramble times in emergency-response situations, and the range of military-grade walkie-talkies, I was a busy girl. I certainly don't claim any kind of expertise in any of these areas even after reading up on them, but at least I feel comfortable that the references I make in the chapter are a step above techno-babble. That was the challenging part.
> 
> This chapter also marks the first time all four of the intrepid co-conspirators meet up, which was pure, unadulterated fun. The dynamics and interactions made for some very enjoyable writing. In fact, the dialogue sometimes almost wrote itself, and more than once I felt like I was just along for the ride.

Teyla stood just outside the open double doors, watching as Ronon effortlessly navigated against the flow of early-morning traffic. The Satedan maneuvered through the crowd of sleepy technicians with good-natured smiles and comments, head-and-shoulders above most of them as he slowly but steadily made his way out of the cafeteria. He eventually reached the Athosian woman's side, grinning down at her triumphantly as he tenderly cradled two thermos bottles of hot coffee in his arms like they were his own children. 

“I got them,” he murmured unnecessarily, inordinately proud of himself. Earth's coffee was already the stuff of legends in Pegasus, between the Lanteans' eternal quest to find a local source for the beans, their eagerly-awaited shipments whenever the Daedalus showed up, and the fact that no matter how much was brought, they never seemed to have enough to last until the next supply run. True to form, the Lanteans had wasted no time securing a fresh supply.

“I see that,” Teyla replied, returning the smile. She was surprised to see the Satedan was in such a good mood this morning, after the thundercloud she'd spied storming off to his room just hours before. “Do you mind if we switch?” She ventured. “This basket is heavier than it looks.”

Ronon snorted, amused until he took the hamper in hand, his eyes widening in surprise. “You carried this all the way from the mess hall to your quarters last night – and all the way back this morning? What's in here?”

“Rocks,” the Athosian replied jokingly, watching her companion closely as he chuckled. She couldn't put her finger on it, but despite his pleasant demeanor, something wasn't right.

He was dressed today, as she was, in clothing suitable for a day of sightseeing on Earth. Gone for the next few days were their familiar leather leggings and lace-up tops, replaced with jeans and pants, and pullovers made of soft woven fabric in bright colors. Teyla, at least, was used to Earth clothing, having donned fatigues and flak jackets for many missions. Ronon, on the other hand, normally eschewed the clothes John had provided in favor of his own eclectic fashion sense, gleaned from countless planets during his seven years as a Runner. 

This morning the Satedan looked decidedly uncomfortable in the casual tan pants and dark red-and-blue sweater he'd chosen for the occasion, although he looked very well in them both. With his considerable mass of dreads pulled back neatly in a band, Teyla imagined he probably looked a lot like the student he'd been on Sateda, before the Wraith came. She wondered if the resemblance wasn't lost on him, either. Perhaps that was the reason for his discomfort. 

Teyla slanted a careful look at the warrior as they started off in the general direction of the Jumper Bay. “Is everything alright, Ronon? You don't seem yourself this morning.” 

The Satedan flinched inwardly at her pointed question. Leave it to Teyla to see right through him. Of course, they'd been teammates for several years, now, and a fellow Pegasus native, so she knew him better than most. 

“I feel under-dressed in these stupid clothes,” he said, still smiling pleasantly, although it was starting to look a little brittle around the edges. “It was next-to-impossible to find places to hide my weapons.”

Teyla's glance slid down to the almost-imperceptible bumps marring the line of Ronon's loose-fitting sweater and near the hem of his pants leg, then up to his hair with a practiced eye. “It looks to me like you have sufficient firepower for our picnic,” she drawled. 

Ronon chuckled, a genuine sound this time, and shook his head in wonder. Even in the nondescript jeans, shirt, and hoodie that Jennifer Keller had let her borrow, there was no mistaking Teyla for an Earth woman. She was Pegasus through and through. It was in the way she carried herself and in the brightness of her eyes, always alert for danger and, if necessary, ready to meet it with either diplomacy or violence. 

“I wish I could agree with you,” he murmured, the smile deserting his face. “Just remember who the guest of honor is. I don't think we could ever have enough firepower where it's concerned.”

Teyla sighed. “I thought we were all going to try and get along today. You promised.”

The Satedan nodded. “I did promise – and I will keep my word – up until it steps out of line. The minute it does, I'm putting it down.”

“Ronon,” Teyla replied, as she shifted the thermoses in her arms and reached out to her tall companion, pulling him to a stop. “ _He_ is important to John. Important enough that John asked us to assist him, even though he knew we would be reluctant. As John's friends, we agreed to help him.” She studied Ronon's stubborn face, and the fact that he refused to meet her eyes set off all her inner alarms. Things already weren't going well, and they hadn't even met up with John and the wraith yet. “Please, Ronon – do not do something we will all regret, in your single-minded pursuit of vengeance.”

Ronon looked at her sharply, anger simmering now just below the surface. “You have no idea what I've been through,” he growled.

“No, I do not,” the Athosian agreed, meeting his glare with fire of her own. “And you have no idea what I've been through.”

“And neither one of us...,” she leaned in close and continued through gritted teeth, “Neither one of us knows what the wraith has been through.”

“Who cares,” Ronon ground out. “It's a Wraith.” It took everything he had not to pull out of Teyla's grip. He didn't like where this was heading.

Teyla looked around anxiously to make sure no one had noticed Ronon's outburst. Satisfied that they had not been overheard, she continued. “You and I have no right to sit in judgment. He has never harmed either one of us.”

“Sheppard...”

“Colonel Sheppard is a grown man. Regardless of what Todd has done to him, it is John's decision whether he wants to forgive him or not – not ours.”

Ronon snorted derisively. “Sheppard doesn't have enough experience with them to realize what he's dealing with. That thing is just taking advantage.”

Teyla let go of his arm and stepped back, shocked. “Are you questioning John's judgment?”

“I'm questioning whether he has the capacity to make rational decisions when it comes to his _friend_.” The Satedan spat out the word with such venom that Teyla was taken aback.

“All he is trying to do is get Todd out of harm's way,” she countered. “I see nothing questionable about that. If I were the one in the holding cell, waiting to be taken someplace from which I would not return, I'd certainly want someone to do the same for me.”

Verbally outmaneuvered, all Ronon could do was glower down at the feisty Athosian. He knew she was right, but wounded pride wouldn't allow him to concede to her point – especially not when the Wraith was involved. Instead, he lapsed into sullen silence and began to carefully reconstruct his arguments.

With a knowing snort, Teyla watched the cogs in Ronon's head turning as he struggled to find a way around her logic, satisfied that she had at least won this round. She glanced at her watch, then Ronon. “It is time to go.” She started off again and had almost reached the stairs before she realized her companion had not joined her. Her lips tightened against the Athosian oath that threatened to spill over them, as she turned back to the morose Satedan loitering in the hall. “Are you coming, Ronon?”

Looking daggers in her general direction, Ronon hefted the picnic basket as though he was considering throwing it, then with a frustrated sigh of defeat, he nodded and fell into step with Teyla as she led the way to the rendezvous point.

0*0*0*0

John rested his backside against the angled front end of Puddle Jumper One, his arms folded across his chest. Although his posture was relaxed, he was far from it. Ronon and Teyla were late. Only a few minutes, so far, but this part of the plan was extremely time-sensitive. He glanced at his watch for the fourth time in as many minutes, then tucked his arm back under the other one with an audible sigh of frustration, wondering where they'd gotten to. They only had a very narrow window of opportunity before things started to go very wrong, very quickly. 

Even with the setbacks he and Todd had encountered so far today, they'd still managed to hit the mark. His biggest concern had been the Dart, but once the wraith had understood what Sheppard was after, he'd made short work of it. The Dart was ready to fly, its preprogrammed commands set to engage at 0730. Now all John needed was the rest of his team, so the Puddle Jumper could be well away from Atlantis when that happened. They all needed to look as blameless as possible in order to avert the suspicion that was sure to arise in the aftermath, and he figured the best way to do that was to be as far away as possible when things went down. 

A chill ran down Sheppard's spine, and he knew with eerie certainty that the wraith was staring holes in the back of his skull. John casually glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, a pair of softly-luminescent ones gazed back from the interior of the darkened Jumper, silver eye shine flashing as they looked at him questioningly. John shrugged as minimally as he could, just in case someone was watching, then faced forward again. 

He had just determined that if Teyla and Ronon didn't show up by quarter-past, he was going to leave anyway, when voices raised in frustration outside the entrance of the Jumper Bay drew his attention.

“We were supposed to be meeting Colonel Sheppard here at seven,” Teyla replied sharply to the guard's muffled question. 

“I haven't seen him this morning, ma'am. You'll need to wait outside until he arrives.”

John pushed himself off the craft and strolled toward the gap in the doors. He caught Teyla's eye over the Airman's shoulder and the Athosian's pinched expression melted into one of relief.

“Here he is,” she said to the guard, who followed her gaze and started in surprise. “Ask him.”

“Sir?” The soldier looked and sounded more than a little rattled. 

Colonel Sheppard assessed the disconcerted youth with mild amusement that didn't quite reach his slightly-narrowed eyes. It was his 'displeased military commander' look, and they all recognized it. “You're new, right?”

“Y-yes, Sir. I'm with the security detail that came aboard yesterday afternoon.”

“You know who I am?”

“Yes, Sir. Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, Sir.”

“That's right – and you are?”

The frazzled young man snapped to attention. “Airman O'Brien, Sir,” he barked, keeping a nervous eye on his CO.

“Begging your pardon, Sir,” the Airman ventured after a moment, “But how did you get past me?””

“There was no one at the door when I got here. I just walked on in, unchallenged,” Sheppard drawled, his voice dangerously mild. “I was kind of waiting to see how long it would take you to figure out I was in here.”

The guard swallowed hard. “My apologies, Colonel. I only stepped away for a minute to investigate a disturbance down the hall.”

John nodded as though he was carefully weighing the Airman's words. “Well, see that a breach like that doesn't happen again.”

“Yes, Sir. I mean... No, Sir.”

“Now let the nice people through. We have plans to go sightseeing.”

The guard couldn't get out of the way fast enough, scrambling aside to allow Teyla and Ronon access to the Jumper Bay.

“Ronon, I think this young man wants to help us get on our way.” John turned to the anxious Airman. “Don't you, Airman O'Brien.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Ronon, let him take the basket.” The Satedan caught Sheppard's eye and frowned in confusion. He was more than capable of carrying it. He'd brought it all the way from the mess hall, after all. However, the slight widening of John's gaze convinced him to play along. He held the hamper straight out and let it go, allowing the guard to catch it in his arms with a surprised grunt.

The odd procession, led by the Colonel with the struggling Airman bringing up the rear, made its way back to Jumper One's bay.

“You can leave it right there,” Sheppard pointed to the floor by the rear hatch. “I'll let this morning's little incident slide. Just be more careful next time.”

The guard snapped to attention and saluted. After John returned it and dismissed him, the Airman all but ran back to the doorway and resumed his post, visibly relieved that he'd been let off with just a warning. 

“What was that all about?” Ronon leaned in and asked quietly.

“Plausible deniability.”

“Huh?”

“I'll explain later.”

The Satedan was getting pretty tired of being asked to take things on faith. With a frustrated sigh, he picked up the basket as Sheppard told the Jumper to open the hatch, then followed John and Teyla inside.

Sheppard beckoned him up on-board, frowning at the scowl on Ronon's face as he took the hamper from him. “Go ahead and take your seat. I just have to get this strapped down.”

The Satedan took a step forward, then stopped in his tracks as he processed the scene playing out in front of him, his ire already rising.

A pair of black boots, and a pair of claw-tipped green hands clutching a pair of black-clad knees, protruded from behind the left-hand bulkhead as he faced the front of the Jumper. Teyla slowly eased herself into the front seat diagonally across, a closed, wary expression on her face. Once seated, her eyes shifted from the partially-hidden interloper to Ronon and back again, and a moment later the wraith's face joined the rest of him, peering out from behind the door frame. Glittering golden eyes locked onto green, and the creature was suddenly on his feet and in the doorway – challenge accepted. The wraith and the Runner glared at each other, each dangerous and deadly in their own way.

John turned back after hitting the manual controls to close the hatch, instinctively grinding to a halt as the potential combatants sized each other up. Hands on hips, he took a moment to assess both, since it was rare they ever shared such close quarters. Dominant males, if ever he'd seen them, and if everyone wasn't on their best behavior, the two were sure to come to blows before too long. 

Before the tense atmosphere that pervaded the Jumper could get any more oppressive, John took matters in-hand and pushed past the bristling pair, trying to distract them. “Okay, that's enough of that. I'm really flattered you want to fight over who gets to take me to the prom, but we don't have time for this right now.”

Sheppard sat in the control chair and swung it around to face the two warriors, looking pointedly at first Todd then Ronon, until he got their attention. “Ronon, take your seat. Todd, you sit behind Teyla.”

After a moment Todd slowly nodded his acquiescence, then made the mistake of glancing over at the Satedan. The wraith's eyes widened in surprise a split second before Ronon attacked. Pushed back with sudden force against the wall he'd been crouched behind, the alien retaliated in kind, and soon the pair were struggling in the confined space of the cockpit, left hands around each other's throats and right hands going for – or becoming – weapons.

Teyla and John traded alarmed glances, uncertain whether to wade in or keep clear as the Titans clashed. If they were just blowing off some steam, Sheppard would have voted to let them have at it. Sometimes it was the best way to clear the air between a couple of guys who didn't see eye-to-eye. However, it was obvious that this conflict was about to turn ugly, and he didn't want anyone getting hurt.

Sheppard leapt from his seat, trying to decide how to best diffuse the rapidly-escalating situation, when the sound of the Dart's engine cycling up broke the silence of the Jumper Bay. Within a matter of seconds the whirring rose to a familiar whine as it echoed off the walls. 

“What the hell!” John exclaimed, as he pushed up his jacket's sleeve and glanced at his watch in shocked disbelief. It was 7:31, and they were now officially screwed. 

John's shout and the engine's roar deepening in preparation for take-off brought the battling males back to reality - and a standstill, leaving them snarling in each other's faces. “This isn't over,” Ronon ground out against the pressure of the Wraith's hand constricting his airway.

“Bring it, anytime. I do not fear you,” Todd growled back, lips pulled back in a serrated sneer. He shoved the human away from him with disdainful dismissal and clenched his feeding hand into a fist as he turned away. 

“What now, Sheppard?” the wraith asked in the next breath. Although his voice betrayed concern, he was as calm as if he had just been discussing the weather, and not fighting for his life. “We were supposed to have left before my ship did.”

John rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Yeah, and we might have made it out earlier, if you two hadn't decided it was time to have a pissing contest.”

“My apologies. I was required to defend myself.” 

Todd shot a look of pure malice at Ronon, who was just taking the seat John had instructed him to earlier. His blood still boiling, the Satedan paused and considered launching himself at the Wraith again, just for good measure. If it meant he got to punch that look off the green bastard's face, it might be worth rousing Sheppard's anger. The threatening glance John sent his way forestalled him, though, and Ronon settled back in the chair, suddenly feeling the need to content himself with fuming instead. Maybe it _wasn't_ worth it, after all.

They all froze and listened as the Dart took off, the whine of its engine receding rapidly as it shot like an arrow out of the open iris.

“Damn it,” John grumbled, combing his fingers through his hair as he desperately tried to reconfigure his plan to fit this unexpected turn of events.

“You're being paged,” the wraith offered calmly, pointedly ignoring the Satedan who was glaring at him from across the aisle.

Sheppard looked up, distracted. “Huh? What?”

“John,” Teyla murmured, drawing his attention to her. She pointed at the emergency walkie-talkie velcro'd to the wall near his left shoulder. A small red light on its face was flashing rhythmically.

Of course. With them all off-duty and not wearing their comm-links, and the City's other internal means of communication spotty at best, they'd been reduced to this. As Sheppard leaned forward to reach for it, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His Second-in-Command, Major Lorne, was leading a detail of armed soldiers into the Jumper Bay.

Even as he inhaled to warn Todd to get down, the wraith had already moved, crouching against the bulkhead behind the chair he had just vacated. 

“This is great,” John drawled sarcastically under his breath, through a false smile and gritted teeth, “Just what I so did not want to have happen.” He held the flashing walkie-talkie in his hand and watched as Major Lorne, who had stopped in front of the Jumper's windshield, held up two fingers. Sheppard turned the dial to '2,' then pressed the button to speak. “Hey, Evan.”

“What the hell just happened, Colonel?” A frown creased the Major's brow. “I got a call from some freaked-out little Airman barely out of Lackland, informing me the wraith's Dart was taking off.”

John watched as one of the other soldiers walked back to Lorne with a shake of his head.

“I guess he was right.” Evan turned back to the Jumper and gave John one of his best don't-try-to-bullshit-a-bullshitter looks. “You mind telling me what's going on?”

“I wish I could, but I have no idea,” Sheppard replied, looking Lorne right in the eye and calmly lying through his teeth. “We were all in the back, stowing the last of the gear for my couple of days of mandated R&R, when we heard the Dart firing up. Before we even realized what was happening, it took off.”

John lifted his finger from the button, waiting and watching his Second carefully to see if he was going to buy it. After a moment, Lorne nodded at him through the glass, then brought the brick-like communicator up next to his face. “That's about what I figured,” he replied.

Evan believed him. That was a good start. As long as no one wanted to board the Jumper, or asked them to debark, they might still make it out of here without the fugitive being discovered. Trying not to look and sound as relieved as he felt, Sheppard carefully gilded the lily. “Geez, Lorne - the damn wraith must have run right past us, here. How the hell did he get out?”

“There were a lot of power fluctuations in the brig earlier. As near as we can figure, Todd must have known he could manually open the cell when it was down, and was just waiting for his chance to escape.” 

_Good boy, Rodney,_ Sheppard thought. _Perfectly executed, as usual._

“Just remember, Major – that wraith has been around for a very long time. He probably knows a hell of a lot more about the City than all of us, put together.”

At that remark, Major Lorne caught John's eye, silently trying to convey – sympathy? Concern? “Listen, Colonel. You need to speak to Woolsey. He's been trying to reach you on channel three.” Evan paused and his lips tightened for a moment before he reluctantly continued. “I think he wants you to go after Todd.”

Sheppard took a moment to breathe, trying to remain calm. Talk about falling in shit and coming out smelling like a rose - this was just getting better and better. He nodded solemnly at his Second, who gave him a sympathetic wave before turning away to speak to one of his men.

John shifted his eyes to meet Teyla's and raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, then changed the channel on the walkie-talkie and pressed the button.

“Mr. Woolsey, this is Colonel Sheppard. Come in.”

A howl of feedback threatened to overwhelm the communicator's tiny speakers as Atlantis' Commander pressed his button before John had a chance to let go. With a long-suffering sigh, John deliberately lifted his finger and waited for Mr. Woolsey to speak.

“...like that? Thank you.” Richard's measured tones filled the cabin. “Colonel Sheppard? It appears Todd is attempting to escape. I've been in contact with Washington, and advised them of the situation. There are Fighters on their way, of course, to intercept, but I thought if anyone was going to bring him back – or if it came to it, shoot him down – you'd want to be the one to do it.”

“Oh – over and out.”

Sheppard compressed his lips – trying to keep his amusement from showing in his face. Between Woolsey's inability to use technology as simple as a walkie-talkie and his attempt at sensitivity missing the mark yet again - kind of like the time Richard had tried to offer Todd comforting words after his Hives had been destroyed by the Attero Device, and failing miserably, it was all John could do to keep from shaking his head in disbelief. At least to his audience in the Jumper Bay, Sheppard's grim expression could be interpreted as the look of someone receiving bad news.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you,” John finally replied, gratitude and regret coloring his voice. Let Woolsey think he was doing a good thing. In a way – he was, providing them with the perfect way out of this mess. The lights and engine came to life with a thought as he sighed into the walkie-talkie. “I guess if someone has to do this, I'd rather it be me than anyone else.” 

The scattered Marines backed out of the way as Jumper One lifted off the ground and propelled itself slowly out into the center of the hangar. In the next instant it took them up and out of the iris, cloaking as soon as they cleared the tower.

“We've cleared the tower. I'm scanning for the Dart. Sheppard out.” John announced into the walkie-talkie as he read the heads-up display. “Now where are you, you little bastard...” he muttered under his breath as he studied the map.

As the Jumper rose into the foggy morning sky, the wraith crept out of the corner and quietly resumed his assigned seat. He looked up to find Sheppard glancing over his shoulder at him, a small crooked smile playing on his lips. 

“Hey, Todd,” John said, after making sure his finger was nowhere near the 'transmit' button, “You're the one that programmed the damn thing. Where is it?”

“I would suggest you broaden your search,” the wraith replied. “We were delayed for several minutes after it left. I only commanded it to make three circuits of the city before sending it out to sea. I assumed that would be sufficient to draw your Fighters.”

Sheppard changed the parameters of the map, and sure enough, the Dart was already off-shore and heading due-West over the Pacific at an alarming speed. John adjusted the Jumper's course and heading, and they came about in an arc, tracking the Wraith ship as they accelerated after it.

“What are those?” Teyla pointed to a pair of dots that had just appeared in the upper corner of the map, coming in over land from the northeast, and moving fast.

“Those are most likely the F-302's that Woolsey mentioned. They'll be coming in from Travis,” Sheppard replied, deploying the Puddle Jumper's drive pods so they could increase their speed. “They scrambled pretty quickly. After the Wraith attack yesterday, the military is probably still on high alert.”

“Why are we bothering to pursue the Dart if there are Fighters on the way to take care of it?” Ronon grumbled from behind Sheppard.

“Well – Woolsey asked us to, first of all. Second, it gave us a reason to get off Atlantis quickly,” John said. “And third – we get to make sure it's good and destroyed if we do it ourselves.”

“And that is important because...” The Satedan asked.

“Because there needs to be as little evidence as possible that there's no one aboard.” John looked back and frowned. “That's what the Wraith parts were for, that I got from Dr. Keller. A little Wraith DNA in the cockpit is just the ticket, in case anyone's sifting through the wreckage that closely. We just don't want there to be too much wreckage for them to go through.”

The walkie-talkie crackled to life again.

“Colonel Sheppard?”

“Sheppard here, Mr. Woolsey.”

“John, I just wanted to say how sorry I am that it's come down to this. Your time off was intended to get you _away_ from this situation, and now I've put you squarely in the middle of it.”

Colonel Sheppard would have liked to have responded, but background noises coming through from the command deck made it clear that Woolsey still had his finger on the button.

“I guess what I'm trying to say, is that maybe – oddly - this is all for the best. You were adamantly against Todd being taken by the IOA, and now he won't be...”

John caught Todd's eye. The wraith looked thoughtful.

“At least this way it's on his own terms, and he's choosing a way out that will leave him some dignity,” Woolsey finished, sounding vaguely defeated.

The walkie-talkie fell silent.

Sheppard hesitated a moment before answering. That the man's heart was in the right place was never in question, but Woolsey had finally gotten it across in a way that wasn't either ill-timed or downright disturbing. 

“Sometimes that's the best we can hope for,” John replied, the gratitude in his voice sincere this time. “Sheppard out.”

John had just replaced the walkie-talkie when the cockpit was suddenly flooded with sunlight. Like someone flipping a switch, the Puddle Jumper emerged from the fog bank blanketing the Bay Area and out into the dazzling blue, cloudless sky of a Pacific mid-summer morning. 

Before the view port polarized to compensate, Todd caught the familiar glint of sun reflecting off the armored skin of a far-off Wraith Fighter. “Sheppard, I can see my ship. It's dead ahead.”

John checked the HUD then scanned the horizon. After a moment of searching, he nodded. “Confirming visual.” 

He glanced up at the position of the three-oh-two's on the map. “Our friends from Travis are gaining on us,” Sheppard murmured, then narrowed his eyes in concentration, sweet-talking the Jumper into giving them some more speed. The craft responded with a surge of power. Inertial dampeners struggled to compensate for the sudden leap, and all the crew of Puddle Jumper One could do was cling to the arms of their chairs until the overwhelming pressure of G-forces subsided, allowing them to move and breathe again.

“Warn us when you're going to do that, Sheppard,” Ronon snapped. “I almost lost my lunch, and I haven't even had breakfast yet.”

“Doing the best I can, Ronon,” John shot back. He studied the heads-up display again. While they were gaining on the Dart, the F-302's were still closing the gap behind them, slowly but steadily. “In fact, how 'bout I just apologize now for everything I'm going to put you through in the next little while. Any minute now those pilots are gonna get a visual on the Dart, and if we're not ready to rock-and-roll, they're going to blow by us like we're standing still.”

Todd had been watching the display as well, and could interpret it as easily as Sheppard. He leaned forward, concerned. “How fast can your Fighters go?” He asked, one commander to another.

“They can hit Mach Two at top speed. Let's just hope they don't go there. I don't think the Puddle Jumper can match that – not in-atmosphere, anyway.”

Even as John did what he could to stabilize the Jumper's flightpath, Teyla's eyes widened as they scanned the HUD. “John,” she exclaimed, “Here they come!”

Years of deeply-ingrained training took over, and Sheppard grabbed the joystick in the center of the console, instinct dictating manual control over mental. He punched the accelerator and the Puddle Jumper responded instantly, eating up miles of ocean in a matter of seconds as the three-oh-two's pulled closer.

The console began emitting a warning claxon as the proximity alarm went off, and the heads-up display showed the Fighters coming up right on their tails. John suddenly remembered that the F-302 pilots had no way of knowing they were even there, since the Puddle Jumper was cloaked. His mouth set in a tense line, Sheppard rapidly adjusted their elevation, lifting them clear just as the left-most plane was about to ram the Jumper's rear hatch. Guided by intuition as much as his instruments, John settled them into a loose formation above and slightly behind the Air Force planes, matching their speed as they raced toward the Dart.

“That was close,” the Athosian breathed, and Sheppard nodded in agreement, his eyes flicking between the HUD and their nearing target. 

As John mentally commanded the Jumper to extend the pods housing the Drones, bringing the weapons on-line, the image in the center of the HUD abruptly changed from a map of the San Francisco coastline and their relative positions, to a targeting display.

“We're almost within range,” Sheppard said, keeping an eye on the F-302's below them as he guided the Jumper through the turbulence caused by the planes. From their elevated position, he would be able to see when the pilots deployed their missiles, and was standing ready to fire two of the Drone weapons when they did. John felt a brief moment of pity for the Dart. With luck – well, actually with great skill and dexterity - it was about to be vaporized.

“We're going to be having our picnic in Japan, if we don't catch up to this thing soon,” John grumbled, frustration evident in his voice as he slouched back in his seat. He glanced over his shoulder at the wraith. 

“Damn it, Todd,” he growled accusingly, “Did you really have to program it to go so fast?”

“I didn't want to make it too easy for those in pursuit,” the wraith replied mildly enough, but John could sense an undercurrent of amusement. “At the time, I had no way of knowing we'd be chasing it, as well.”

Twinkling gold eyes met hazel. “Too much for you to handle, Sheppard?”

John scowled and turned back to the view port. The damn wraith was definitely amused. 

“Be glad we ran out of time before I could include the evasive maneuvers I'd wanted to.” 

John was just trying to think of a witty comeback when the targeting display started flashing. Sheppard studied the HUD as additional information streamed down the screen. “Target acquired,” he advised, sitting up straighter. “We're within firing range.”

John spared a glance at the Fighters. From their position above the F-302's, he could practically read over the pilots' shoulders, and it was clear from what he could see of their read-outs and their movements, that they were preparing to deliver their payloads, as well. The tension was almost palpable in the Jumper's cockpit, all eyes on the HUD, the tail-end of the Dart as they drew closer, and the Fighter jets below.

In the space between one breath and the next, the F-302's fired almost simultaneously, sending two Sidewinders after the wraith's ship before peeling off to the left and right. John barely had time to register the rockets' vapor trails before he shot two Drone weapons in their wake. 

For a brief instant everything continued on as if nothing had happened, then all four missiles hit the Dart at once.

The ship dissolved in the fireball that engulfed it, the concussive force from the multiple explosions buffeting the Puddle Jumper as John hauled back on the joystick for all he was worth. “Hang on!” he cried. The Jumper climbed at a steep angle as it overshot the destruction below, tiny pieces of shrapnel they had no way of avoiding pinging off the underside of the hull. 

Sheppard brought the ship around at a safe distance, and they watched as flaming debris rained down onto the ocean's choppy surface. Some of it continued to burn as it floated, black, oily smoke billowing in the stiff breeze, while some sent up gouts of steam as the water extinguished the flames. As far as John could tell, there was no carcass at all, which meant no cockpit – nothing more than tiny chunks of organic matter burning on the surface, and some twisted, melted remnants of Wraith technology and charred bone fragments already sinking to the bottom. Not much left to recover, in his considered opinion.

The two Fighters had joined up again, and overflew the burning wreckage before turning as a unit and heading back in the direction they'd come. John knew they'd marked the spot and would eventually be back with a salvage team, but as far as Sheppard was concerned, that was neither here-nor-there. After seeing the destruction for himself, John was pretty confident they'd covered their tracks. No one was going to be able to figure out Todd wasn't aboard what was left of that craft.

“So I guess you're dead now,” Ronon said, breaking the hush that had fallen as they watched the Dart's remains burn, his eyes slanting toward the wraith.

Todd turned and considered the Satedan, surprised the man would actually lower himself to address him directly outside of uttering threats. “In a manner of speaking,” he replied cautiously. “Don't get any ideas.”

Ronon snorted with something akin to humor, and John hid a smirk, figuring that was about as good as it was ever going to get between those two. Reveling in the minor miracle of the wraith and Satedan actually almost getting along, Sheppard was distracted from the fragile cease-fire by the rumbling in his stomach, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since sometime yesterday. It was beyond time to get this party started. He glanced in Teyla's direction as he reached for the walkie-talkie, her sly smile indicating she'd heard his body's complaint. 

“I am hungry, too, John,” she murmured.

He nodded. “Yeah, I just have to call this in.” He depressed the button on the brick, “Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Come in.”

“Colonel Sheppard,” Mr. Woolsey replied in a burst of static, managing to sound both relieved and concerned. “How is it going?”

“The target has been neutralized.”

“Oh. I see,” Richard responded, his voice softening. “I'm sorry, John.”

The walkie-talkie went silent, then a moment later it crackled loudly once again. “Puddle Jumper One, return to base.”

John's eyes widened in surprise. What was Woolsey talking about? That wasn't part of the plan. Well, nothing was technically part of the plan anymore - but Sheppard had counted on this R&R to get Todd away from Atlantis. He was concerned that if he had to think his way out of too many more situations like this, he was going to start to unravel. Swallowing against a sudden rush of adrenaline, he forced his voice into a semblance of calm he didn't feel. “Uh, Mr. Woolsey? If it's all the same to you, I could really use that picnic and couple of days off you promised me.”

“What? Oh – of course, Colonel Sheppard! Take a couple of days. Take a week...”

Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief as Woolsey rambled his way through a profuse apology. Richard hadn't changed his mind; in all the excitement, the man had merely forgotten. 

John leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the Puddle Jumper hover in place above the spot where the Dart had been destroyed, allowing himself to relax in tiny increments. They'd done it. Todd was free. It was even official - Woolsey had just given them the go-ahead to land in San Francisco. 

“Thank you, Mr. Woolsey,” John replied, when Richard had wound down. “Sheppard out.” He put the walkie-talkie on stand-by and stuck it to its velcro patch on the wall, then swiveled in his chair and grinned at Todd, who was sitting quietly and watching him with those inscrutable yellow eyes of his, looking as relaxed and self-possessed as if he was in the Command chair of one of his own Hives. 

“You ready to go sightseeing?”

What might have been a smile tugged at the corner of the wraith's mouth and he nodded, a flicker of approval in his gaze.

John nodded back, then turned and began piloting the Puddle Jumper back to the City by the Bay. “Awesome,” he drawled, as he settled into his chair. “Let's start with a picnic in Golden Gate Park. I'm starving.”


	12. A Mad Tea Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team stops for a well-deserved breakfast in Golden Gate Park, but even their best laid plans for a relaxing picnic don't pan out as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another romp of a chapter that worked up really quickly. Todd and John took over right away, spending a few needed minutes together to reaffirm their burgeoning relationship, while the 'tea party' played itself out in my head in such a visual way, I felt like I was watching it happen and just transcribing what I was seeing. 
> 
> The only real research I did for this chapter had to do with Golden Gate Park's layout, so I could find a good spot to set down the Puddle Jumper and give them the privacy they needed.

The fog had started to dissipate by the time Sheppard landed Puddle Jumper One next to a stand of trees in Golden Gate Park. Watery sunlight was already attempting to break through the low-lying clouds, making a concerted effort to try and warm things up as the craft's occupants disembarked. Thankfully, John had parked in a secluded spot on the edge of a large open green space, so their sudden appearance, seemingly materializing out of thin air as they stepped away from the cloaked vehicle, went unobserved in the quiet, sparsely-populated park.

Nearby, a couple of elderly men in warm-up suits strolled along the edge of a bike path, too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice much of anything but each other. They chatted animatedly and gestured with hands and coffee cups as they argued good-naturedly, their laughter floating back on the breeze.

Farther downhill a man and his small daughter played with a dog so large, the child could have ridden on it if she'd wanted to. The erstwhile steed reveled in his morning exercise, repeatedly retrieving the frisbee the man threw with practiced ease to the little girl's gleeful applause. The beast stopped and barked once at the newcomers, a deep, bass woof acknowledging their presence before returning to his game, sleekly-muscled grey body stretching out as he raced across the grass, tongue lolling.

Other than that, they had the field to themselves. The disembodied cries of gulls pierced the relatively peaceful day at random intervals, as they floating unseen in the fog on the thermals overhead; while leaves rustling in the the nearly-continuous coastal breeze drowned out the far-off sounds of traffic, making the meadow seem all the more secluded.

John was the last to come down the Jumper's ramp, zipping up his windbreaker and tucking his hands in his pockets as he walked around the ship to stand by the wraith. From their position at the top of the gently-sloping hillside, they had a panoramic view of the long, tree-lined meadow.

Sheppard glanced sideways at Todd as he joined him, watching the wraith absently brush long, pale tangles away from his face as he scanned the park in an unguarded gesture so... human, it took John's breath away. He'd never considered that a Wraith might ever need to do something so commonplace. They always seemed so put-together, so self-possessed, that he'd assumed they were above the mundane minutiae of existence. He continued to surreptitiously watch the wraith from the corner of his eye, waiting for him to do something else amazing like scratch his nose or rub his eye. 

Instead the alien turned toward him, obviously amused by John's ill-concealed scrutiny. 

Sheppard's face flushed, embarrassed at being caught. “Sorry, was I staring?”

Todd nodded, still watching him, wondering why Sheppard was apologizing when it had pleased him that John wanted to study him. The subtle game of visual assessment had long ago been elevated to a fine art among the Wraith, honed to a sharp edge by centuries of practice. With a single look from an accomplished master, a potential enemy could be disarmed with an unspoken offer of friendship – or more, or cut to shreds with dismissal and disdain. With a glance, lives could be saved or lost. Sheppard's gaze, refreshingly open and without artifice, had been full of emotions the wraith had been waiting a very long time to see. 

“I did not mind,” he said quietly.

“No. I guess you wouldn't,” John replied with a rueful grin. “You guys excel at that.”

Todd chuckled, a soft rumble. “Yes,” he agreed, “We do.”

Feeling suddenly awkward and exposed now that his furtive glances had been revealed not to have been as secretive as he'd thought, Sheppard looked anywhere but at his tall companion, trying to regain his composure. Wraith knuckles gently brushed his cheek – a single brief touch, and he found himself meeting Todd's questioning gaze.

“What is wrong, Sheppard?”

Hands balled into fists in his pockets, John shrugged. “I don't know,” he replied. “I don't know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This. With you.” Sheppard sighed and looked out over the field. “I've spent the better part of the past three years pretending I didn't feel anything. Now that I don't have to keep up the pretense anymore, I have no idea how to act with you. I don't know how to be involved with another... male, and an alien on top of it. I mean, we're not even the same species.”

“You seemed like you were doing fine with it last night and this morning,” Todd observed mildly, while he took in the acrid scent of John's anxiety on the rise.

“We were on Atlantis. It's been my home-away-from-home for the past five years. In my head, I guess we were still in Pegasus. But now – here – this is the real world. My world. My home. It suddenly feels like the rules have all changed.” John glanced over at the wraith then away before Todd could catch his eye. He couldn't believe the stuff that was coming out of his mouth, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. This is what everyone got for trying to make John express his feelings. “You and I are literally from completely different worlds - different societies with different expectations. I have no idea where your boundaries are – what's okay and what isn't. There's just so much about you I don't know, and will probably never know.” 

The wraith maintained a calm facade although he considered Sheppard with growing unease, surprised by the other's outburst. Their bond was so strong – unbreakable, although the human had no way of truly comprehending the implications of that yet – but at the same time, it was still so very fragile. Now that John's plan had succeeded and Todd had been freed from Atlantis, they were apparently at another crossroads, one the wraith – and perhaps even Sheppard - hadn't seen coming. 

Had John's insecurities finally managed to destroy the foundation they'd only just begun to build? Or did he perhaps feel that he'd discharged whatever responsibility he owed to the wraith, and had changed his mind about what else was being offered? Uncertain whether he was being dismissed or if Sheppard was simply voicing concerns, all Todd could be sure of was that he didn't want to see the tiny flame they'd kindled, the wisps of smoke still curling through the just-ignited straw, to be snuffed out before it had a chance to catch. 

“I agree with you that the rules have changed, Sheppard, but it extends far beyond your suddenly being back on Earth,” the wraith began, treading with care. “We changed the rules – you and I. Last night... three years ago – either way, the rules we play by are of our own making. I felt it keenly in Pegasus since that is my home, while perhaps you did not. Now it is simply your turn to understand how far we fall outside of the strictures that govern our respective galaxies.” 

“As for the many things you do not know, there is no shame in that - especially for one so young. You are reasonably intelligent. You can be taught.” Todd paused, trying to discern what might be going on in John's head. The despair on the human's face and the confusing scents of fear and anger that radiated from him were the wraith's only clues, and he hated that he was once again forced to work head-blind. “The important question is, do you want to learn? Only you can answer that, and all else flows from there.”

Sheppard studied his sneakers for several minutes, his features pensive as he considered the wraith's words. For all the excuses he'd thrown Todd's way, John knew they really all stemmed from the undeniable fact that this relationship was already a foregone conclusion, in spite of his lingering discomfort with finding himself attracted to another male. That Todd was a Wraith actually bothered him less, but Sheppard had never felt the gulf between their two species more than he had when he'd stepped off the Jumper's ramp onto his home soil. 

In Pegasus, in their international, intergalactic microcosm called Atlantis, attitudes were looser, people more tolerant, and he had more latitude to be John Sheppard reinvented; but they were on Earth now, and all the Earth-based conventions and prejudices he'd Gated away from five years ago were reaching out and wrapping their fear-inducing tendrils around him, making him question himself and his decisions. If he chose to pursue this thing with the wraith here on Earth, he was going to have to do a lot of growing, and fast.

He glanced up at Todd, who was watching him with the same guarded, carefully-neutral expression John remembered from yesterday afternoon, when he'd callously shredded the wraith's faith in a last, desperate attempt to deny his feelings for the alien. A stranger in a strange land, the wraith had been slated for incarceration and a gruesome end, on some level probably expecting nothing less. Caught up in a struggle that ranged much farther afield than anticipated, he'd been brought three million light years to another galaxy, clinging to the hope that Sheppard would take their brother-bond seriously and keep him alive. 

And John had gone out on a limb for him. He'd broken him out of jail, hidden him, and smuggled him out in one of Atlantis' own ships - but by doing so, Sheppard had put himself in very real danger. 

As an officer in the Air Force for longer than he cared to admit, he'd bent the rules more than a few times over the years, but last night John had crossed a line and committed treason. Helping the wraith escape, as Sheppard had done, was the textbook definition of offering aid and comfort to the enemy - and technically, Todd was the enemy. John knew this time he wouldn't simply be banished to Antarctica to cool his heels if he was caught. He'd most likely face a court-martial and years in prison. Hell, he could be executed. The U.S. still did that. And he'd not only endangered himself – he'd gotten other people involved in this, as well. Co-conspirators. If it went sideways, they'd be in trouble, too. 

Yet he'd gone forward with it anyway, because it was the right thing to do – because he couldn't allow such a gross miscarriage of justice to occur when he could prevent it. 

No, John admitted, it was because he cared about the wraith regardless of their differences, pure and simple. Cared about him so much, in fact, that none of the other concerns mattered at the time. Only now, in hindsight, did Sheppard acknowledge to himself how far he'd actually gone, and he still couldn't bring himself to regret it.

He realized something else, as well. In spite of his promise not to do this again, here they were less than a day later, with Todd scarcely breathing while he waited for Sheppard to decide if he was going to discard him yet again. Shame colored John's cheeks as he searched the alien's features, committing to memory every detail of the other's thinly-veiled pain. He wanted to be able to recognize it, so in the future he could stop whatever stupid thing he was doing before they got to this point. 

John sighed, grimly amused. A few minutes ago he'd been making noises like he was gearing up to kick Todd to the curb, and here he was contemplating their life together. This was one of the reasons he didn't pursue relationships. He knew he was a hard person to be with.

Now the rollercoaster was starting up again, and this time he'd dragged the wraith on the ride with him. Well - so be it. John had a feeling letting go wasn't really an option for either one of them, anyway, so Todd may as well get used to the ups-and-downs sooner rather than later. Sheppard knew that knife cut both ways, though, as much as he hated to admit it. If they were going to do this – and apparently they were, then he'd better stop complaining about what he didn't know, and start hitting the books.

“Yeah,” John finally breathed, meeting the golden eyes that waited patiently for him, “I do want to learn, if you'll teach me.”

Todd nodded, the tension easing from his shoulders as his apprehension faded. “Of course, John,” he murmured, allowing himself a small smile. _Let's change all the rules._

Sheppard glanced up at the wraith, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't often Todd called him by just his first name. John was about to remark on it when someone else called his name, too.

The pair turned in unison as Teyla hailed them again. “Come and eat,” she called, beckoning to them from the corner of a pale blue blanket stretched out on the grass, about ten meters downhill from the Jumper.

While Sheppard and the wraith had been having their tete-a-tete, the other half of his team had unpacked the picnic basket and set up breakfast.

It was quite an impressive spread, courtesy of the military's finest Food Service Specialists. No wonder Teyla had struggled with the basket, John mused. It contained enough food to feed an army – literally, packed in little styrofoam coolers with cold packs. Not only were there muffins and donuts, bagels and bread, hard-boiled eggs, containers of yogurt, and little boxes of cereal and juice, along with a variety of fresh fruit, there had also been a blanket, the same white heavyweight ceramic dishes used in the mess hall – plates, bowls, and mugs - and silverware, to boot.

“Wow,” Sheppard breathed, as he plopped down onto the upper edge of the blanket across from Ronon, who was steadily working his way through his second blueberry muffin. “I think all that's missing is a table and chairs – and you know they probably tried to figure out how to stuff those in the basket, too.”

Muffled by a mouthful of baked goods, a bark of laughter erupted from the Satedan as he passed John one of the cups of hot coffee Teyla was doling out.

Todd hovered at the edge of the gathering, weighing his alternatives. Unlike many of his kind, he didn't mind sitting with humans while they ate, but the glower he was receiving from Specialist Dex clearly indicated he wished the wraith elsewhere. Unwilling to provide the Satedan with any excuses to blow up and disrupt their well-deserved repast with a display of inappropriate anger, he was just considering finding somewhere else to go until they were done, when Sheppard happened to look up. He followed Ronon's gaze, twisting mid-reach as he made a grab for one of the honey-dip donuts, a grin lighting his face. “You gonna sit down, or what?” John quipped, indicating the unclaimed corner of the blanket. 

With one last glance at the Satedan, Todd approached and cautiously settled on the edge of the blanket downhill from Sheppard and across from the diminutive Athosian. In contrast to Ronon's simmering rage, the female regarded him with cool detachment in spite of her elevated anxiety level. Relaxing by degrees, the wraith offered nothing but calm silence in return. The Pegasus natives, like prey animals when faced with a predator come to join them at the watering hole, eventually accepted the temporary truce; and soon breakfast resumed as if it had never been interrupted. 

Although Teyla managed to maintain her outward calm, she was finding it somewhat unnerving to be in such close proximity to Todd without a weapon close at-hand, for all that she'd spent a considerable amount of time in some remarkably intimate situations with the wraith while they were onboard the Hive ship. Even when she was playing Queen, she had possessed a knife. It hadn't been much, but it had provided the illusion, at least, that she had some sort of protection. With nothing but a meter of blanket between her and the creature, as little as a single Bantos rod would have been welcome. Unfortunately, she had access to neither. 

Compounding Teyla's discomfort, by Athosian custom as the only woman present it fell to her to play gracious hostess. Todd was a guest at this gathering, here by John's invitation, which made dealing with the wraith unavoidable. As difficult as it might be for her, she could do nothing less than offer him the same consideration and attention she would give to anyone else. Steeling herself, the Athosian warily offered him the cup of steaming coffee she'd poured.

The wraith stirred from his preternatural stillness and accepted it with equal care and a nod of thanks, mindful of the Satedan's eyes boring into him from the opposite corner. Settling back, Todd gratefully wrapped his hands around the hot mug, letting the warmth seep into his fingers as he sniffed suspiciously at the contents. 

“It has an enticing aroma,” he finally decided.

“Yeah, well it doesn't taste like it smells,” Ronon warned harshly, as he took a sip from his own mug. “In fact, it tastes like crap.”

“Why would anyone drink it, if it's so terrible?” The wraith asked, genuinely puzzled.

Sheppard carefully set down his cup on a level spot in the grass and raised his hand. “Oh, I know this one. Coffee is full of caffeine, which is a mild stimulant. People get hooked on the caffeine, so they keep drinking the coffee.”

Todd shifted his position, turning so he could see John without craning his neck. “So it's basically a stimulant-delivery system.”

“Exactly.” John slid down the blanket until he was close enough to the wraith that he could deftly pluck the cup out of the other's hands. “Let me fix that for you.” Todd watched, faintly amused, while Sheppard added other ingredients to the mug as he had done for his own – apparently to help make the brew more palatable.

“Here you go,” John announced proudly as he handed the cup back to the curious alien. “Try this.”

With more than a little trepidation, the wraith raised the mug to his lips, hesitating when over its edge, he noticed three eager faces turned toward him with far more interest than the situation seemed to warrant. Suddenly mistrustful, he almost put the cup down, until John urged him on.

Todd took a sip and immediately wanted to spit it out. What were they trying to do, poison him? 

If asked to describe its flavor, the closest he would be able to come was to say it tasted vaguely like brewed dirt, although he suspected dirt might be better. The others seemed unharmed by it, however, so he gamely and with great difficulty, swallowed – and grimaced, to the humans' seeming delight. 

Teyla unsuccessfully tried to hide a smirk and Ronon snorted with amusement, while John had the decency to look at least a little apologetic. “Yeah... it takes some getting used to.”

The wraith shuddered as he set the mug aside. He wouldn't be touching that again anytime soon. “Indeed. It makes a better hand-warmer.”

Sheppard chuckled. “Give it time, my friend. Give it time.”

After the coffee, the wraith seemed content to opt out of the rest of the meal, much to John's disappointment. Sheppard knew Wraith sometimes ate for pleasure, and he'd been curious to see what the other might enjoy. Unfortunately he'd been unable to tempt Todd with either the muffins or the donuts, and the alien had wryly commented that the cereal smelled similar to something he'd fed to pack animals he had once owned somewhere in Pegasus, during another stay, planetside.

John finally despaired of getting Todd to try any of the grain-based items, and decided he might have better luck with something simpler. Spying the bowl of fruit by Teyla's knee, Sheppard reached across on a whim and grabbed an orange. No sooner had he broken through the skin to reveal the pale pith beneath, than the wraith perked up, attracted by the unique and overwhelming sweetness that suddenly permeated the air. 

“What is that?” He asked curiously, as Sheppard peeled the brightly-colored orb. The wraith picked up a piece of the discarded skin and turned it over between his fingers.

“This?” John replied, gratified that he had finally piqued Todd's interest. “It's an orange.”

The wraith glanced up from the rind he'd been examining, his eyes narrowed as he shot Sheppard a look of disbelief. “You're joking.”

John laughed at Todd's dubious expression. “Seriously. That's what it's called. I know - it's not the most original name.” He pulled the denuded fruit apart, carefully peeled off a section, and offered it to his intrigued companion. “If you like sweet and juicy, you're gonna love this.”

Ronon surreptitiously eyed the interaction playing out between Sheppard and the Wraith while the Satedan helped himself to another donut and topped up his coffee, vaguely sickened by what he was witnessing. It had been bad enough when the Colonel had invited the damn thing to join them after Ronon had almost managed to warn it away, but things had rapidly gone downhill from there, when Teyla had actually been polite and offered it coffee. Coffee, of all things – and it had taken it from her hand like it deserved her hospitality. It had been all the Satedan could do not to kill the Wraith right then and there. 

To top it all off, he'd endured a half-hour of watching John trying to get the creature to taste bits of this and that, and Sheppard's obvious delight that it had found oranges acceptable was more than the big warrior could stand. Was he the only one here who remembered they were dealing with a _Wraith_? If this was playing nice, then he'd had enough. Ronon set his coffee down with more force than necessary, sloshing the hot liquid over the edge of the mug and his hand, and escalating his temper - like the coffee - to the boiling point.

“Damn it!” He exclaimed, shaking his dripping fingers off over the grass behind him. The Satedan turned back to the party and three pairs of eyes watching him. The only pair he took exception to were the soulless yellow ones.

“What the hell are you staring at?” Ronon snarled at the Wraith as he accepted a napkin from Teyla to wipe coffee off his reddened, stinging hand.

Todd considered his options as he regarded Ronon Dex dispassionately, scenting the human's rising anger. The man was spoiling for a fight, that much was obvious. The question was whether the wraith was going to give him one. As far as Todd was concerned there was nothing between them. He had no quarrel with the Satedan, although he knew the human felt otherwise, his unquenchable thirst for vengeance making him unpredictable and dangerous. 

Under normal circumstances, Todd would have eliminated the threat long before this. As it was, Sheppard had already stepped between him and the Satedan once today, leaving the wraith with no other choice but to bide his time. John apparently didn't want Specialist Dex harmed, so until such time as Todd was forced to kill the human in self-defense – an act he would perform without hesitation, and much pleasure – the wraith would acquiesce to Sheppard's wishes. 

That didn't mean he couldn't add fuel to the fire, especially if the Satedan was going to push for a confrontation anyway, in spite of Todd's best efforts to keep the peace. Perhaps if he could escalate the situation to the breaking point, this ongoing irritation could be resolved once-and-for-all.

The wraith remained silent in the face of Ronon Dex's challenge, while he let his gaze slide away from that of his bristling adversary, knowing it would gall the burly warrior to be ignored. With humans, sometimes all it took was the smallest of things to finally set them off. Sure enough, even as he felt John and Teyla's tension ease on either side of him, believing the crisis to have been averted, Todd could feel Ronon's primal rage intensifying.

“Damn it, Wraith. I'm talking to you,” the Satedan ground out.

“Ronon...,” John drawled, the implied warning in his tone sufficient to quell the most belligerent of Marines.

“Please, Ronon,” Teyla chimed in soothingly, “Let it go.”

The beleaguered Satedan frowned as he glanced from one teammate to the other in disbelief that they were siding with the enemy over him. 

“No,” Ronon growled angrily. “This is ridiculous. Treating it with courtesy like it's human. Giving it coffee. Offering it all kinds of food and being excited because it likes oranges.” He turned to the Wraith, who gazed at him with its usual mask of indifference. The Satedan unconsciously clenched his scalded hand into a fist, as the impulse to punch that studiously-blank expression right off its inhuman face rose to the surface. Unexpected pain from stretching the tender, injured skin as he closed his hand brought him up short, however, so instead Ronon settled for a verbal assault. “What's the big deal, anyway? It's a piece of fruit, for crying out loud! An orange! Get over it.”

By this time, the warrior had Todd's undivided attention. The wraith was coiled to spring if necessary, so he noticed both the human's tightening fist and his involuntary flinch of pain, pulling him back from the edge of violence just long enough for him to reconsider.

 _No resolution that way, then,_ the wraith mused, mentally shifting gears. 

Any peace between them existed solely because they were each protected from the other by their vows to Sheppard, and apparently the Satedan needed a visceral reminder that just as Todd was restrained from killing him; Ronon - as much as he might want to - was just as restricted from killing the wraith. If he couldn't finish things by pushing the man into physically attacking, then the best he could hope to accomplish for now was an impasse. Either way, he was going to have to force the Satedan's hand.

“You forget, Ronon Dex,” Todd replied with a glint in his eye, as he delivered a blow calculated to rip through the Satedan's heart, “that up until now I have only had the pleasure of sampling Earth's people, not its food.” 

The three humans' expressions froze in various stages of surprise and horror, while the wraith, unconcerned, reached for another section of the fruit Sheppard had laid out on a plate. “Was that some more Wraith humor?” John finally managed to choke out.

Todd glanced at the trio, vaguely amused by the identical looks of shock on their faces. He hadn't anticipated the ripples from the stone he'd thrown to extend so far. Sheppard had to know by now how much the sharing of his life force had meant when they'd made their escape from the Genii, and the gift of the man, Wallace, when he'd required feeding – and Teyla had lapped at the edges of the power the Wraith possessed in abundance on the Hive ship, when she'd played Queen-for-a-day. He'd expected them both to appreciate the humor of his statement a little more than they apparently had. 

“Yes,” he replied, a smile irrepressibly quirking the corner of his mouth at their stunned reactions, “And trust me, it was very funny.”

It also hit its mark. 

“By the Ancestors, Sheppard!” Ronon snarled as he jumped up, pulling his pistol from under his sweater and drawing down on the seated Wraith. “Can I just shoot it?” The creature froze in place, watching him with suddenly cold, impassive eyes as it waited for either death or deliverance. 

“No!” John barked, tense and still. He didn't want to set the Satedan off with any sudden movements. “Put that damn thing away. Now!”

Ronon's arms trembled with tension as he struggled with an unfamiliar emotion when facing the enemy – uncertainty. Torn between his almost-overwhelming desire to just pull the trigger and make everyone's life easier, and the sure knowledge that John would probably never, ever forgive him if he did, the Satedan's divided loyalties paralyzed him. All he knew was that he was being forced to choose between the promise he'd made to his dead people and the promise he'd made to Colonel Sheppard, and in that moment even Ronon couldn't say which had a stronger claim. 

The tableau lasted for the span of several heartbeats, until with a cry that devolved into a strangled howl the Satedan put up his gun. Glancing neither left nor right, he then stormed off to the edge of the clearing and rained destruction down on a tree that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Giving vent to his impotent rage, Ronon grunted in time to his blows as he struck the sapling again and again, making its leaves quiver.

Huffing out a sigh of relief at barely-averted disaster, Sheppard turned to the wraith sitting next to him. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Golden eyes gazed back, inscrutable and guarded. “Perhaps later,” Todd replied, offering a small, enigmatic smile. His risk had paid off. The wraith was pleased that he'd achieved his goal, satisfied that the Satedan had been sufficiently-reminded of the boundaries. It was ever thus with Drones. Bred for brawn and not brains, they often needed to have their noses rubbed in their mistakes several times before things became clear. At least the human seemed to have learned his lesson for now. Maybe the rest of the day would be a little more pleasant for everyone without Ronon Dex's temper flaring out of control at every imagined injustice.

Knowing he wasn't going to get anything else out of Todd until the wraith was good and ready to tell him, if ever, Sheppard turned his attention to the Satedan. “I think he's beaten on that poor tree for long enough, don't you,” John murmured, catching Teyla's eye. At her terse nod he called the warrior home, beckoning him back to the blanket. “Ronon. Enough. Get over here and sit down.”

Silence reigned when the Satedan abruptly ceased pummeling the tree trunk, stretching out his hand and leaning against it for a moment, his chest heaving. Finally, exhausted and hollow-eyed, he returned to his corner of the blanket and reluctantly resumed his seat, breathing hard from his exertions and nursing bleeding knuckles. 

Sheppard shook his head in consternation as Teyla began the unpleasant task of cleaning and binding Ronon's wounds, wondering how things could have once again gone awry so quickly. “Listen,” he announced sternly, staring down the Satedan and the wraith, in turn. “We came here to have a picnic - to spend a little time together and unwind. Now, we're all going to sit here, and we're all going to behave ourselves, and we're going to have a nice, happy breakfast together if it kills us.”

John flashed on a memory of Patrick Sheppard trying to wrangle himself and his brother, Dave, when they were kids, and felt a sudden twinge of empathy for the poor man's struggles. He carded his fingers through his dark hair, muttering under his breath. “Jesus, I'm turning into my father.”

The good news was that, for the moment at least, he had succeeded where the elder Sheppard had often failed and everyone seemed reasonably subdued, so John took his own advice and allowed himself to unwind. He leaned back to rest on his elbow, casually stretching his legs out, down the edge of the blanket behind Todd's back. He felt the alien surreptitiously shift position until his hip rested against John's shins, the physical contact reassuring in a way Sheppard had not expected. He canted his gaze up to meet the wraith's and was rewarded with the barest hint of a smile. John heaved a contented sigh, an answering smile tugging at his lips as he succumbed to the warm affection flowing across the subtle connection between them. 

He didn't realize his eyes had slid shut until he was abruptly brought back to reality by Teyla, asking what sights they were going to see that day. 

“Um, not sure,” he replied, blinking himself awake and sitting up. “Any ideas?”

“Well, Jennifer recommended we go someplace called Fisherman's Wharf, to start,” the Athosian replied, twisting to rummage in the bottomless picnic basket. She came back with a fistful of travel pamphlets. “She gave me these.”

“Wherever you guys want to go – I'm easy.” 

John scrubbed his hand through his dark mop of hair trying to wake up, while Teyla and Ronon shuffled through the colorful brochures. Todd sat quiet and aloof, regarding him with hooded eyes.

When he was sure his two teammates were engrossed in scheduling the rest of the day, Sheppard turned to the wraith, speaking quietly. “Did what I think happen really happen, or did I imagine it?” 

“Imagine what, John?” he asked, a smirk curling his lips.

“Damn wraith,” Sheppard breathed.

“You were teetering on the edge of actual relaxation. All I did was give you a little push.”

“I don't know whether to tell you to stay the hell out of my head, or thank you.”

“You are welcome, Sheppard,” Todd replied, looking smug.

Just for that, John reached out and nabbed the last orange slice.


	13. No Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of a busy day, exploring San Francisco. Time to kick back and enjoy a well-deserved rest – unless you're Colonel John Sheppard, that is, and your roommate is a Wraith who's been dying to get his hands on you all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My father passed away on January 4th, just as I was starting work on this chapter. As one would expect, it threw me for quite a loop. It took me a couple of weeks before I was ready to pick up my pen again, but once I did, it was kind of a relief to lose myself in the plot, and I managed to complete the initial writing of it in about three weeks. Readers may notice a few melancholy 'father' references in this chapter, but I guess that's to be expected. 
> 
> The main thrust of my research for this chapter involved finding a hotel with a day spa in SF. I managed to find one on Nob Hill, which I used as my inspiration. It's a gorgeous, luxurious place with beautifully-appointed, individually-decorated rooms – just the kind of hotel Todd would love.
> 
> I also delved into Asian culture a little bit, trying to find something that Todd might resemble enough to freak out an old Chinese woman, and stumbled upon a reference to a monster that was absolutely perfect for the chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> *Jiang Shi – Chinese: According to several websites, this is a reanimated corpse, kind of a cross between a zombie and a vampire. A peculiar feature is its greenish-white skin, and it is also said to have long white hair all over its head. It kills living creatures to absorb their _qi_ or "life force”.

A weary John Sheppard slipped the magnetic key card back in his jacket pocket with a sigh. After a long day of exploring San Francisco by foot, cable car, then finally cabs, and more shopping, sightseeing, and refereeing than he thought possible in a single day, he was ready to drop where he stood. He glanced down the hall, watching as Teyla and Ronon disappeared into their adjacent doorways, thankful that the concierge had managed, without too much difficulty, to locate a group of rooms so close together this late in the evening for four walk-in guests. 

Assured that his teammates were safely ensconced for the night, Sheppard depressed the ornately-carved brass lever that served as a knob, and pushed open the gleaming oak door whose golden numerals proudly proclaimed them to be on the 11th floor. One hand still on the latch, John reached into the suite and pressed the light switch just inside. 

As he pushed the door wider, soft, overhead illumination revealed sculptured beige carpet and highly-polished dark wood furniture, set against a backdrop of tastefully-coordinated drapes and upholstery in subdued, autumnal shades. Even after passing through the elegant lobby, Sheppard was momentarily taken aback by the abundance of carefully-arranged luxury. The last time he'd been even close to such an ostentatious display of wealth was when he'd come back to Earth for his father's funeral, and before then it had literally been years. 

John paused, a memory rising to the surface of one of his family's annual Fourth of July celebrations. They were crowded, noisy, day-long affairs complete with a fireworks display after dark. This one was memorable because of the sixteen year-old daughter of one of his father's business associates, that also-sixteen year-old John had smuggled into his household-staff-cleaned, professionally-interior-decorated bedroom. If he remembered correctly, he and that girl had set off some intense fireworks of their own before the party was over. 

Curious as to why that particular memory had come to mind, Sheppard had only to glance at Todd standing quietly beside him, and it all became clear. It surprised and amused him how strangely similar his current situation was to that long-forgotten evening, right down to the impressively-furnished, pristine room and the highly-inappropriate-but-irresistibly-hot partner-in-crime. Stepping aside with a smirk on his face, John indicated with a spread hand and a raised eyebrow that the wraith should precede him into the room.

Wondering at John's amusement, Todd entered and looked around, taking in the details of the well-appointed apartment. In his long life, he had been reviled as barely-tolerated scum and worshipped as a god, and had laid his head down in reeking hellholes and perfumed palaces, alike. As such, he had a keen appreciation of both simple comfort, and the opulence wealth and influence could provide. While he would have been satisfied with simplicity after the stress and uncertainty of the past few days, it pleased him that Sheppard had chosen someplace so fine.

“You've done well, Sheppard. The room is quite acceptable.”

John smile was wistful as he slipped the _Do Not Disturb_ sign onto the lever, then closed and locked the door. “Whenever my father came to San Francisco on business, this is the only place he would stay.”

With a small nod of understanding, Todd shrugged his bag, retrieved from the Jumper, off his shoulder. His jacket followed, and both were tossed on the nearest overstuffed chair as he made his way to one of the broad velvet-draped windows. The wraith took a moment to run curious hands down the sensuous, dense pile, before tugging on the cord hidden amongst the drapery's folds. Russet panels parted to reveal creamy silk sheers, and beyond, the breathtaking view of dusky San Francisco spread out below, awakening for another night. 

John trailed after him, shedding luggage and outerwear, as well, before joining the alien by the casement. The soft glow of the hall light illuminated the room enough for it to reflect in the glass behind human- and wraith-shaped silhouettes as the pair stood shoulder-to-shoulder, each lost in his own thoughts as they watched the city in companionable silence.

0*0*0*0

John awoke to the indistinct sounds of the television in the living room. He opened one bleary eye to a night-darkened bedroom, picking out the details of discarded clothes and rumpled sheets by moonlight, as he listened to the channel being changed from sports, to news, to sit-coms, to nature shows and back again, in quick succession.

With a groan, he rolled onto his back, his whole body protesting as he did so. Muscles sore from the day's exertions, and aching inside from tonight's, Sheppard felt like he'd been run over by a truck. 

Todd had held him to his promise of finishing what they'd started in the morning; and although John had been exhausted, he'd been happy to keep it. After making a point of keeping interaction with the alien to the bare minimum all day, for fear of Ronon getting the wrong – or in this case, the right – idea of how far things had gone, it had actually been a relief to let his guard down and be able to touch the wraith without worrying about provoking his hair-trigger teammate. It had been worth it, too, although Sheppard had ended up a crusty, sore, wraith-bitten mess. 

Truth-be-told, as perverse as it felt to admit it, John was finding he kind of liked the aftermath, as well, as much as he might complain about it. He ran his fingers gently over the mark at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, idly wondering if the collar of his shirt would hide it until it healed. Between this one and the one on the back of his neck, he had quite a collection going. He was going to have to talk to Todd about being more careful next time. He couldn't very well walk around with Wraith bites on his neck, not ones that could be easily seen, anyway. 

John yawned and stretched, trying to unkink aching limbs, although it didn't seem to be doing much good. He finally decided what he really needed was a hot shower – and dinner. His stomach rumbled in agreement, and he suddenly realized he hadn't eaten since the unidentifiable meal they'd had mid-afternoon in a little hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant in the heart of Chinatown. 

That had been an odd experience from the beginning. 

As soon as they'd walked in, the tiny Asian elder had looked like she'd wanted to throw them out, but settled for eyeing them warily instead. It hadn't taken too much detective work on Sheppard's part to determine that it was Todd's presence which troubled the old woman. She hadn't seemed to want to approach the wraith at all, carefully giving him a wide berth as she laid out silverware and napkins. It was when she'd brought in the tea, stoneware chattering as she carried the tray with shaking hands, that it became painfully obvious it was taking all her courage just to come close to the table. 

After setting down the pot and cups, she had glared at each of them in turn, then hissed something that sound like _Jiangshi* _accusingly at the alien, before retreating to the back room. Without bothering to hand them menus or take their order, she'd returned a few minutes later with steaming bowls of something that looked vaguely like chop suey, indicating they should eat up and leave as soon as possible. Now that Sheppard thought about it, she'd never even presented them a bill before shooing them out the door.__

Strangest of all, hers had been the first reaction to the wraith's appearance John had noticed all day.

Puzzled and vaguely amused, Sheppard slowly pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the massive king-size bed. Just the right distance from the floor, he'd discovered, for someone his height to get comfortably plowed by someone Todd's height. John's cheeks burned at the memory of how much he'd enjoyed it when that irresistibly-strong hand had gripped his shoulder and pressed him face-down on the bed, as the wraith moved inside him, hard and fast. Oh yes - it was a measurement he was definitely going to make sure he got before they checked out. 

Reluctantly pushing aside the memories of their pleasant interlude, Sheppard levered himself into a standing position and carefully made his way around the bed to the bedroom door, with only the moon lighting his way. As he fumbled for the knob, he encountered the voluminous folds of a heavy bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. 

They hadn't brought any robes like this. 

John pulled it down, frowning in confusion until it dawned on him that it was probably a spa robe supplied by the hotel. It certainly felt like one, all lush microfiber, lined in thick terry. It was slightly damp inside, and John imagined that the wraith had probably worn it after showering.

Alone in the dark, Sheppard brought the collar of the robe up to his face and inhaled deeply. Yes, he could detect Todd's faint-yet-distinct musk lingering in the fabric. A few minutes later, he was still there, his face buried in a double-fisted wad of cloth as he reveled in the wraith's scent. He stopped himself when he realized what he was doing and drew back, half-hard and vaguely embarrassed. 

Taking a moment to pull himself together, John made a show of shaking out the robe and slipping it on, letting the mundane motions distract him. When he felt he had composed himself sufficiently, he pulled it snugly around himself, cinching it loosely at the waist with a single knot.

Todd glanced up when John wandered into the sitting area, blinking against the bright light after the darkness of the bedroom and wrapped in the robe that had been left for him to find. The wraith had showered and worn it briefly before he'd slipped into the luxuriously-soft black silk pants and robe Sheppard had chosen for him in Chinatown. This was after he'd left John sound asleep in their bed, worn out from the long day and some mutually-satisfying coupling. With the stress of the escape and the uncertainty of their first mating behind them, the human had been surprisingly inquisitive and passionate. 

Sated and clean, Todd had finally stretched out on the sofa. Remote in-hand, he'd begun exploring what the humans' information portal had to offer, although without someone to answer questions and provide reference points, his interest had quickly waned. He had been pleased when he'd sensed Sheppard starting to stir, and had hoped the human would join him. What he hadn't been prepared for was the overwhelming miasma of delicious scents John brought with him. Still half-asleep, disoriented and vulnerable, Sheppard smelled of sweat, seed, and new arousal. The combination was so primal, it was all the wraith could do to keep his seat as he struggled to subdue the instinctive responses of _feed, mine,_ and _mate_ that assailed him simultaneously. 

Drawn in by his consort's irresistible allure, the wraith swallowed as he forcibly tried dragging himself back from the edge. He shut off the TV and carefully laid the remote on the coffee table, then sat back on the sofa in a casual sprawl that belied the tension singing through him. The sudden silence and Todd's movement brought Sheppard out of his fog. He turned sharply and caught the wraith's eye, John's face lighting up with a smile so unguarded and genuinely happy it crumbled the alien's fragile resolve, and he knew in that instant he'd lost the battle. 

John barely registered the wraith's movement when suddenly he was pressed back against the closed bedroom door, a body along the length of his, long fingers softly, possessively, stroking down his jawline. Glittering yellow eyes gazed into his, slit pupils so close that Sheppard could watch them dilate, as the unexpected rush of lust which coursed through him overwhelmed Wraith senses. He was still trying to get his bearings when Todd leaned close and inhaled deeply, then rubbed their cheeks together, warm breath against John's ear and neck making him shiver with awakening need. 

Lips followed, ghosting gently over the tender flesh of Sheppard's throat - his rapid, erratic pulse - and all John could do was tilt his head back and offer himself, lost in the sensation and aching... aching...

 _No. Shower first. Dinner._

With a groan of frustration, John brought his hands up and pushed at the wraith's silk-clad shoulders. “Damn it, Todd,” he snarled, “Not now.” 

Sharp teeth pressed against his ear, forestalling further struggles as Sheppard stilled, the vague threat sending both a thrill of fear and a surge of gut-clenching desire through him. After a moment, submission assured, his ear was released and the tip of an inquisitive tongue trailing around the edge of it, lapping at the indentations left by the bite. 

“I don't know how you do it,” Todd murmured into the shell of John's ear, his voice rough with passion, “but I cannot seem to get enough of you.” 

Sheppard swallowed hard and pushed ineffectually at the other's shoulders again, trying to calm down. The feeling was mutual. 

“It's a gift,” John replied with a shaky, breathless laugh. The wraith chuckled as well, which didn't help. The low, intimate vibration in his ear traveled directly to Sheppard's groin, and he moaned with desperation and desire as he felt his body starting to respond. 

“Todd,” John whispered, “You know I'm not strong enough to resist you, and if you keep this up I'm not going to want to.” If he wasn't tired and dirty and hungry, he would have enjoyed the wraith's assault, but unlike the pleasurable power-play between them when Todd held him down in bed, Sheppard disliked the helplessness of being pinned to a door when he wasn't sure he wanted to be. He disliked the note of pleading that had crept into his voice even more. “Please. I need to eat something before I fall down.”

It was the wraith's turn to still as he reined himself in, his ardor doused by John's plea for food. Hunger was far too sensitive a subject for him to wish to be the cause of it, especially for the one who had liberated him from countless years of starvation.

“Of course, John. I understand,” Todd replied, releasing the human and stepping back. Far be it for him to keep Sheppard from eating.

Although he was relieved that the Wraith version of foreplay hadn't devolved into a real struggle, John regretted his choice of words almost instantly, when he saw the haunted expression that practically screamed _Genii prison_ flicker across Todd's features, before he buried it again. Damning himself for an idiot, Sheppard hesitantly reached out and ran an awkward hand up and down a silk-covered arm. “I'm probably not really going to fall down,” he said, catching the wraith's eye and offering him a tentative smile, “I just need some dinner.”

Todd gave John a wary look, then nodded. He'd been unable to mask his emotions before the human had seen them, and yet rather than attack – either verbally or physically - as most Wraith would have done at a perceived weakness, Sheppard had offered comfort and reassurance. Although he had witnessed this behavior between humans, it was so far outside his realm of personal experience the wraith wasn't sure what to do with it, or the sense of well-being John's reaction had kindled.

Sheppard still regarded him with a look of concern, so Todd gave him another small nod. “I am fine.”

John squeezed the wraith's arm then released it, looking rather dubious but letting it stand for now. “Okay. Good. Now let's see if they offer room service in this joint.”

Rubbing his hands together briskly in eager anticipation, Sheppard brushed past the wraith and began prowling the room. He was looking for Todd knew not what, although he enjoyed watching John play the predator. The wraith returned to the couch and sank down on it just as Sheppard's triumphant _Aha!_ rang through the suite. The victorious hunter wandered over perusing a large, green folder he'd found, and sat next to the alien. Dark hair brushed against the wraith's arm stretched along the back of the sofa as John relaxed, putting his feet up on the coffee table while he flipped laminated pages.

Sitting so close, Todd couldn't help but read over Sheppard's shoulder, and discovered he was looking at a rather extensive list of food.

John noticed the wraith's interest out of the corner of his eye, and slanted a look in his direction, only to be distracted by the strip of broad, powerful chest and sculpted abdomen the other's open robe revealed. “Do you want anything?” he asked.

“I can assure you that what I want isn't on that menu,” Todd replied wryly, secretly amused by both the human's question and his obvious appraisal.

Recalling himself, Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck as he met Todd's eyes. “Yeah,” he drawled, “It's kind of automatic to ask. Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize. You meant no offense.”

Todd observed while Sheppard used the quaint communication device on the end table, letting someone in the establishment's kitchen know what he required. After he hung up, he turned and grinned at the wraith. “Food's been ordered.” 

John patted Todd's knee then used it to leverage himself to his feet. “I'm going to jump in for a shower before it gets here.” 

The wraith's gaze followed him as he walked away, gold eyes glittering. “Dinner will be brought to the room?”

“Yeah, that's the beauty of it,” John replied as he returned from the bedroom carrying his jeans. He pulled several crumpled bills from one of the pockets and laid them on the desk by the door. “We don't have to do anything but call and order it, and a room service waiter brings it up.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Todd's mouth. If he couldn't drag Sheppard back to bed for another round quite yet, at least he could take some pleasure in winding his lover up in another way – and knowing John as he did, Todd was certain he would not be disappointed. “So you did order something for me, after all.”

Halfway to the bathroom, John stopped and turned to face the wraith. “Wait – what?” 

“Steak, fries, and a beer for you, and... a waiter for me.” Todd watched John out of the corner of his eye as he stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles and heaving a satisfied sigh. “I am going to enjoy room service.” 

Sure enough, almost as soon as the words had left the wraith's lips, John started sputtering. “You can't eat the waiter!”

Todd shifted golden eyes up to meet Sheppard's outraged hazel. “Why not?” He asked quietly.

John scrubbed a hand through his shock of disheveled hair. “I can't believe what I'm hearing,” he growled, rounding on the wraith. “What happened to that whole discussion we had this morning about only feeding on the bad guys?”

“I had thought this might be an exception to the rule,” Todd replied reasonably. “As a servant whose responsibility it is to satisfy the guests' hunger, he would only be fulfilling his function.”

“No exceptions!” Sheppard barked, storming back to his maddening companion. As he drew closer, he caught the barest glimpse of a smirk stretching Todd's lips, and the incongruity of the wraith's outrageous assertions in contrast to the undercurrent of amusement in his demeanor brought Sheppard to a grinding halt. 

Was that the way of it? 

Todd was trying to be funny. It was an added bonus if he could also get John worked up - and John had obliged him yet again. Oddly, the realization cooled his temper, relieved that the alien wasn't serious – this time. Although it was difficult not to react when the wraith kept rattling Sheppard's cage like he did, at least John had caught on before he'd really blown up. 

From one moment to the next, the human's expression transmuted from passionate anger to affectionate irritation, and Todd knew the game was up. 

“Not gonna work this time, buddy. I'm onto you,” John challenged with narrowed eyes “You're just yanking my chain. This is your twisted, Wraith idea of humor, isn't it.”

Todd grinned, admiration dancing in his eyes. “You are glorious when you're aroused, Sheppard.”

John just shook his head and snorted. “I'm going to take a shower.” 

The wraith watched fondly as Sheppard retreated from the field, waiting patiently for the parting volley while John spent a few minutes puttering around the sitting area, tossing their shoes into a corner and hanging their jackets in the closet. The human then padded back into the bedroom and emerged with his dopp kit and a pair of sweatpants. Just when Todd thought he might have misjudged his worthy adversary, John stopped outside the bathroom and fiddled with the doorknob for a moment before glancing up at him, a concerned expression on his face. Clearly, the man had something to say.

“Yes, John?” Todd asked solicitously.

“If dinner shows up before I get out, promise me you won't feed on the server.”

“Go take your shower, Sheppard. Trust me.”

After surviving a glare that would have incinerated a lesser Wraith, a noise that sounded distinctly like 'Harumph,' could be heard echoing from the marble-tiled bathroom before John closed the door.

Todd settled back into the sofa and laughed. 

0*0*0*0

“So you want to keep me, like a pet?” Todd snarled incredulously from across the small, round mahogany table nestled in the dining area of their suite.

“No. I want to help you – like a Brother,” John replied, as he set down his fork and serrated knife on the edge of his plate and took a swig of beer, frustration evident in his tone. “Damn, stubborn Wraith.”

“You should recognize that trait, Sheppard,” the wraith growled, “Since it is one we apparently share.” He sat back, silk-clad arms crossed over his bare chest.

John set the almost-empty amber glass bottle down on the tray, wishing he'd ordered two, and picked up his utensils again so he could cut himself another slice of juicy, tender filet mignon, surreptitiously eyeing the wraith as he did so. He was still trying to figure out how the alien could have thought John was just going to turn him out into the streets with no visible means of support, when Sheppard returned to Atlantis. Even more perplexing was when John had made it clear he considered housing Todd his responsibility, the wraith had respectfully declined, saying he preferred making his own way. After all the trouble John had gone through to secure Todd's freedom, and everything that was between them, Sheppard certainly wasn't going to leave him to fend for himself; but who could have imagined that offering to set the wraith up someplace would be met with such resistance – and by the alien, himself, no less? With a sigh, John tried a different approach. 

“Look, _you_ may want to live like a homeless person, moving from one dumpster to another, but _I_ would like someplace nice to stay when I come to see you.”

Hooded, golden eyes refocused from their thousand-yard stare and flicked up to meet his. 

Encouraged by the wraith's interest, minor though it was, John continued. “I had kinda planned on coming out whenever I had a few days off, which actually happens pretty often, with our rotation schedule. I figured if I was going to pay good money for someplace to stay in San Francisco every couple of weeks, I'd rather spend it on my own place than a hotel room.”

The wraith's impassive gaze traveled slowly over Sheppard's face. 

John reached for the beer and drank the last of it, then pushed the tray to one side. He leaned forward and folded his arms on the table, doing his best to interpret Todd's inscrutable expression and failing. 

“I don't understand,” Sheppard finally asked, tilting his head in puzzlement. “What is this really all about? Why is it a bad thing that I want to see you settled someplace?”

The wraith sighed, an exhalation of frustration. The human just wasn't going to leave this alone. Pushed into a corner, Todd would normally attack, but this was Sheppard he was dealing with, and the wraith had promised that when John asked him something he would do his best to answer him honestly. As unwilling as he was to reveal a weakness, this was the first direct query the human had posed on the subject, and Todd felt bound to respond.

“I am concerned that if I stay in one place for too long, I may be discovered - and captured.”

The truth. Finally. Sheppard could work with that. From what little he knew of Todd's history, and this morning's near-miss with the IOA, John completely understood why the wraith would want to avoid incarceration at all costs. 

Sheppard nodded solemnly. “I get that,” he replied, catching the wraith's eye. “Believe me – I do. And if I were in your shoes I'd probably feel the same way - but as far as the IOA knows, you're dead. They're not going to be looking for you.”

“Do you not think that the comings and goings from the same abode, day-after-day, of someone who is obviously not-human might draw unwanted attention?”

John's eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Todd – did you _see_ all the freaks out there today?” He gestured with an expansive hand. “No one will give you a second glance. Even if someone did call the police to report an 'alien sighting,' can you imagine how many of those they must get in a day, in a city like San Francisco?”

Sheppard could almost see the wheels turning in Todd's head as he considered his words, so John pressed his advantage. 

“I'm making an appointment with a realtor in the morning, to find a place. If you want to come with me and have some input on what I decide to buy, that'd be great, but you don't have to.” A smirk played at the corner of John's mouth. “You can hang out with Teyla and Ronon for the day if you want.” 

The wraith snorted, reluctantly amused. “If those are my choices, then I would prefer to go with you.”

“You can choose whatever you want, Todd. If you wanted to get up and walk out that door right now, I would have no right to stop you.” It was supposed to have been a casual remark, but it brought John up short, unable to speak for the sudden lump in his throat. He certainly didn't want that to happen, but the wraith was a free agent, and if he was really against being a part of this, Sheppard couldn't make him do it – nor would he want to try. Todd had already had enough people keep him against his will. 

John swallowed hard and examined his nails for a moment before glancing up at his companion, some of the need he couldn't quite push back down reflecting in his eyes. “What I hope,” he resumed, his voice a little rougher than before, “is that you'll feel comfortable living in the place I buy – that you'll choose to be there, instead of sleeping under an overpass, or bedding down in some burned-out, boarded-up factory because that's where you happen to feel safe that week. I just want you to know that you do have a choice, and you don't have to live like a fugitive.”

Todd remained carefully-neutral as he watched Sheppard's display of emotion, although it pleased him that the idea of his leaving had induced such a strong reaction. He could feel the bond between them growing exponentially, and apparently so could the human, who, in spite of his natural aversion to expressing his feelings, was doing an admirable job of trying to reassure Todd of his relative safety. It was quite touching, actually, that his well-being was so important to John, Sheppard was once again willing to step outside his comfort zone for him. 

The alien unfolded from his defensive position and leaned across the table. He trailed a gentle hand over his paramour's bicep where it emerged from the sleeve of his form-fitting t-shirt, enjoying the feel of silky skin stretched over bulging muscle. “I appreciate your concern,” Todd purred, when John's gaze shifted from the fingers stroking his arm to the wraith's face. “I would be honored to accompany you tomorrow.”

The tension in Sheppard's features eased, and he offered the wraith a smile. “Then maybe we should go to bed. It's going to be morning before we know it.”

Todd stood in a single graceful movement, silk robe billowing as he pulled the human up with him. John swayed from the unexpected maneuver, and the alien slid a steadying arm around around his waist. “Time to sleep, then. You will want to be well-rested.”

John laid tentative fingertips on Todd's powerful chest, twinkling hazel eyes rising to meet the wraith's gaze. “I said, 'let's go to bed.' I never said anything about sleep. That's just quitter talk.” He was rewarded with golden cat's eyes dilating as desire flared and an ardent, questing mouth suddenly engulfing his. Passion blazed, hot and fast, and they quickly lost themselves in the pleasures of entwining tongues and caressing hands. Sheppard tangled his fingers in soft, white hair, moaning into the kiss when he felt claws digging into his flanks, as the wraith pulled him closer and wantonly rubbed himself against the growing bulge in John's sweatpants. 

Coming up for air with a growl, Todd tugged the human in the direction of the bedroom. Sheppard trailed after him willingly, smelling so strongly of lust the wraith's mouth watered. They paused at the bedroom door, this time the alien's back to it while he fumbled for the knob, and John writhing against him. After several attempts he finally managed to get it open, pushing it wider to let his consort pass, then following him inside. 

“It will be dawn in a few hours, Sheppard. Are you sure of this?” Todd whispered urgently, even as he reached for the human again.

John nodded, “I'm sure,” then laughed, breathless and eager, when the wraith slipped a nail under the neckline of his t-shirt and ripped it open with a practiced motion. He glanced down at the dangerous hand fondling the fur on his chest, then up to meet passion-darkened Wraith eyes. 

“Game on,” Sheppard murmured with a feral grin, shutting the door behind them.

0*0*0*0

John and Todd wandered into the hotel's restaurant bright and early the next morning, pausing in the doorway as Sheppard searched for the other half of his team. After a couple of passes, he caught sight of Teyla and Ronon seated at a table in a secluded corner of the sun-drenched dining room. John nudged the wraith and pointed, then led the way as they crossed the room, navigating through a sea of white-linen-draped tables set with gleaming glassware and impeccably-placed silver.

Teyla was the first to notice them as they approached and waved. Her gentle smile dissolved into a frown of consternation, however, when Ronon leaned over and quietly said something to her. The Athosian turned disapproving eyes on her morose companion and replied shortly. Her remark was apparently something the Satedan didn't want to hear, the rebuke causing his scowl to deepen.

Sheppard chose to pretend he hadn't seen their exchange, keeping his fingers crossed that enough of the big warrior's civilized upbringing remained for him not to make a scene in a public place. Not that John held out much hope of that; even on his 'best behavior,' the Satedan had been a handful when they'd toured San Francisco the day before. Sheppard had thought a good night's sleep in a comfortable bed and a hearty breakfast might actually have a positive effect on Ronon's mood. Apparently such was not the case, and he wondered briefly if this morning's meal was going to end up as interesting as yesterday's.

With a sigh, John sank wearily into the empty chair next to the Satedan, stifling a yawn as he hooked his sunglasses over the neck of his t-shirt and scanned the restaurant like he was looking for something.

The Athosian noticed his lassitude. “You seem... strangely tired this morning, John. Is everything alright?”

John sat up in his chair, trying to look alert. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just worn out.” He slanted a quick glance in the wraith's direction. “You guys dragged me from pillar-to-post yesterday. I guess I'm not as spry as I used to be.”

Ronon snorted. “Coffee's at the end of the buffet.”

“A buffet, huh.” For the first time, John realized that both Teyla and Ronon not only had hot beverages, but half-eaten meals in front of them. Heaving another sigh, Sheppard stood and beckoned Todd to follow. Without a word, the wraith rose and went with him.

Sipping her tea, Teyla surreptitiously kept an eye on the pair while they mingled with the other guests in the buffet line. Although the wraith remained cautious as he maneuvered his way through the small crowd of humans that hemmed him in, like yesterday, there was very little reaction to him other than a couple of startled double-takes. To the people here, he was not seen for what he was, an alien species – an apex predator, but as simply an unusual... man. It astonished her how easily he fit in, how quickly he was adapting. She supposed it shouldn't, though. The creature was ancient beyond imagining, and no doubt his reaching such a great age could be attributed, at least in-part, to honing that very ability to a fine edge.

The Athosian hid a smile in her teacup as she watched Sheppard pointing out things for the wraith to put on his plate, also finding herself surprised by the quiet camaraderie that existed between the two of them. She disagreed with Ronon's assertion that the Colonel had been broken by the creature's repeated feedings, and was little more than a Worshipper. Although she understood the Satedan's concern, it was abundantly clear to Teyla, even after very little observation, that John and Todd's easy back-and-forth banter was more indicative of the way two friends behaved than a master and slave. She could not put her finger on it, but after three years of wariness, distrust, and a series of uneasy alliances, Todd's plight had apparently been a catalyst of some sort, and it seemed that something had finally been settled. 

She was still idly musing over what the missing piece of the puzzle might have been, when John and the wraith returned to the table, breakfasts in-hand. While Sheppard tucked into a plate of fluffy eggs the chef at the buffet had whipped up for him, Todd poked desultorily at the assortment of fruit sitting before him. 

“So, where are you guys going?” Ronon asked abruptly, curious to know why Sheppard and the Wraith had both worn their jackets to the breakfast table.

John hastily swallowed a mouthful of omelette and took a sip of coffee to wash it down, his eyes shifting to meet Todd's as he did so. Leave it to Ronon to cut right to the chase. 

“Well,” Sheppard began carefully, wiping his mouth and setting his napkin by his plate, “Todd and I have an appointment with a realtor at nine, to look at houses and condos. I want to buy a place in the city.”

The Satedan rocked back in his chair, shock and anger etching grim lines into his features as he glared from John to the Wraith and back again. “Why don't you just set the date of your Promise Ceremony, too, while you're at it,” he snarled derisively.

Todd concentrated on his breakfast, methodically stabbing a piece of watermelon with a fork while he pretended the Satedan wasn't talking. It was better that way. It was bad enough having to once again endure the other's incessantly-accusatory tone of voice, if he allowed himself to pay attention to what the human was saying, he'd probably have to kill him. 

“Not that I should have to explain myself,” John drawled, the dangerous edge of his own temper riding just below the surface, “but we have no idea how long Atlantis is going to be stuck on Earth, and Todd needs someplace to stay.” Ronon's dissension surprised him - not that the Satedan might feel the way he did, that had never been a secret - but that he'd actually slipped and said something. Sheppard's eyes narrowed as he considered his teammate, wondering if Ronon was beginning to crack under the strain.

“It is very kind of you, John, to provide that,” Teyla interjected soothingly. It was clear that the situation was deteriorating rapidly, and she had really hoped to avoid bloodshed today - at least until after she had a chance to finish her morning meal.

Intense hazel eyes softened as Sheppard glanced her way, grateful for what the Athosian was trying to do. An angry snort brought his attention back to Ronon, but the warrior had already risen from his seat and stalked off in the direction of the coffee urns, choosing to walk away rather than escalate the already-tense atmosphere. Chalk one up for reason - there was hope for the Satedan yet. 

Turning back to Teyla, John took a deep breath and even managed a grin. “Well, the alternative was to leave Todd to sleep in a dumpster. I couldn't let him do that.”

The wraith impaled the watermelon one last time and left his fork standing in the defeated fruit, chuckling as he caught John's eye. “If I didn't find your lack of faith in my ability to survive so amusing, Sheppard, I'd be insulted.”

John reddened. “Yeah – I guess you have been around the block a few times.”

“Not to worry,” Todd replied softly, giving the Colonel a small, unguarded smile Teyla was certain she wasn't supposed to have witnessed. “I prefer your way of obtaining shelter. I would have simply taken over the abode of a one of my victims; and while that would have worked short-term, it is not the optimal solution for the long haul.”

“No,” Sheppard agreed. He and Teyla exchanged looks before John turned and eyed his companion, trying to discern whether he was joking or not. After a moment, Sheppard shook his head and gave up, wondering if he should be concerned that he was already becoming inured to the wraith's comments. 

“This is not the optimal solution for the long haul, either,” John picked up the watermelon/fork combination and laid it aside, then pulled the wraith's dish closer. He spent the next couple of minutes plucking stems off strawberries and slicing melons from their rinds, aware that the wraith was watching him and soaking up every detail as Sheppard prepared the fruit for consumption. John concluded the lesson by sliding the plate back in Todd's direction, naming each pile of glistening pastel cubes as he pointed to it, then helping himself to a strawberry.

By this time Ronon had rejoined the party, with two fresh cups of coffee and a plate laden with pastries. He set a mug down in front of John like a peace offering before taking his seat. 

“Hey, thanks,” Sheppard said, grinning at the Satedan, “I was thinking about getting another cup.” He picked up the mug and took a sip, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. “You even fixed it the way I like it.”

Teyla nodded approvingly, pleased to see her two teammates attempting to reconcile. The past couple of days had been difficult on them all. Sensing the tension starting to ease, she couldn't resist joining in with the opening shot of a long-standing debate they all enjoyed arguing. “Now, if you'd been drinking Athosian tea,” she observed with a smile, “you wouldn't have to 'fix' it with anything.”

John's eyes sparkled with merriment as he picked up his mug and turned it in his hand. “So, tell me again why that Athosian tea you drink in the morning is better than coffee?”

She had no sooner drawn breath to answer, than John happened to look at his watch, which had peeked out of his jacket sleeve when he'd lifted the cup. “Damn,” he exclaimed, “Look at the time!”

Teyla closed her mouth and gave him an amused smirk instead.

“Sorry to eat and run – or just run, but we're late,” John offered apologetically, as he and the wraith rose to leave. “Can we meet up for dinner?”

“Of course,” she replied with a gracious nod and a sincere smile. “Hopefully you will have more time.”

Sheppard grinned, relieved he hadn't offended the Athosian, after he'd been the one to instigate the conversation he was now running out on. “Definitely. We'll catch up with you guys tonight at around six,” he added, acknowledging Ronon with a nod.

Teyla watched the pair make their way back through the crowded dining room to the entrance, voices floating back across the din, to ears attuned to hear them.

“Will we be spending all evening with them, then?” the wraith asked.

“Nah – we'll just stay for dinner,” Sheppard replied over his shoulder. “I kind of assumed you'd want dessert later, in the room.”

In the doorway, John paused and glanced up at Todd, who grinned and nodded. “You would be correct in that assumption.”

Sheppard flashed him a smile as he put on his sunglasses, and with that, they were gone.

Teyla smiled, as well, as she turned back to the table. “I have not tried ordering room service yet, have y...”, her voice trailed off and her amusement faded when she met Ronon's eyes. The Athosian could almost see storm clouds gathering as she watched coldness creep into her teammate's face and disgust curl his lip, and actually felt the chill from across the table when the Ronon she knew was subsumed, and the Runner stared back at her, intent and deadly. 

“Ronon?” she ventured cautiously, instantly alert and wary. She'd been one of the first to make contact with the Satedan, and knew first-hand how dangerous he could be when the civilized veneer was peeled back.

Recognition flickered in his eyes as he returned her gaze. She supposed that was a good sign, although she wasn't sure if he realized who she was, or if he was reacting to his name.

“Ronon,” Teyla tried again in a firmer tone, “What is wrong?”

The Satedan's eyes narrowed in disbelief. “How can you even ask that question? How can you pretend that everything is okay? John is out there right now, wandering the streets with that _thing_.” Ronon's voice rose with his temper, as the dam broke. “He's looking for a _house_ for it. It's not right!” He pounded an angry fist on the table, making their nearest neighbors jump. 

Teyla frowned. Although the Satedan had every right to express his concerns, she was nonetheless outraged that Ronon would choose to air his grievance at this moment, in this place. “I pretend nothing,” she hissed softly, hoping the Satedan might take the hint and modulate his behavior. “At John's request, I have merely been giving the wraith the benefit of a doubt. I must say, he has been cordial and well-behaved, for the most part, this entire trip – which is more than I can say for you.”

Ronon's head snapped back like she'd slapped him in the face. “I seem to be the only one who remembers we're dealing with a _Wraith_ ,” he snarled back, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “It's going to be killing people.” He leaned closer, scrutinizing the Athosian closely like he'd never seen her before. “Has that suddenly stopped bothering you?” 

“Of course it bothers me. I have not lost sight of what he is, nor what he does to survive. I do, however, trust the Colonel more than you apparently do, since I am sure John has worked something out with Todd which will mitigate as much of the potential damage as possible.”

The Satedan sat back, arms folded across his broad chest. “So you have faith in Sheppard, and he's been compromised by a Wraith. That's just great,” he growled sarcastically. “I can't do this anymore. I can't just sit back and watch my Commander – and the rest of my team – being led around by that monster.”

Forgetting her anger, Teyla laid a concerned hand on the Satedan's forearm. “Ronon, what do you mean to do? You cannot tell anyone the wraith is alive and in the city. That would lead them right back to John – and us.”

The Runner shook her off, irritated. “I'm not stupid,” he ground out. “I wouldn't blow up Sheppard's plan. I don't want to endanger him, or us – just the opposite. I want to help him.” 

“Ronon, please – do not do anything rash.” The Athosian instinctively reached for her companion, but stopped herself, not wanting to be rebuffed again. “Please speak with John tonight, when he returns. I am certain that if you laid out your concerns in a reasonable manner, he would be more than happy to try and ease your mind. I do not believe you two have had this discussion yet, and you should – for the sake of your friendship, if nothing else – as well as for the sake of the team.”

The Satedan looked skeptical for a moment, then capitulated with a reluctant nod. “Fine. I'll talk to him, but tell him to keep that damn Wraith away from me. If I see it, I'll shoot it until I know it's dead. I'm done playing games.”

Diners returning from the buffet instinctively steered clear of Ronon when he turned and stalked out of the restaurant, leaving a shaken Teyla at the table. She considered going after the Satedan and trying to talk some sense into him, but she had seen the fanatical gleam in his eyes and knew her arguments would fall on deaf ears. Far from realizing that John was helping the wraith of his own volition, Ronon had somehow become even more convinced that Todd held Sheppard in some sort of thrall, and Teyla knew nothing she could say to him would dissuade him from that belief. 

She only hoped that John could get through to him, or regardless of Ronon's intentions, they might all find themselves in danger in the days ahead.


	14. Promises to Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed, and John finds himself the owner of a new house and a partner in a new relationship. Desperately trying to find a way to balance his responsibilities as Atlantis' Military Commander with an alliance that has already escalated to dangerous emotional levels, Sheppard takes a few minutes to make himself a cup of coffee and contemplate life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of those chapters I just couldn't seem to get finished. The first half was written in layers, which I then interwove to create the juxtaposition between John's memories of the past week and his current surroundings and activities. Not only was it a challenge to wrap things up in retrospect, I also dragged my feet for a few weeks, trying to get my head around the fact that BLP was drawing to a close. I started writing this story in September of 2012, so it's been a pretty constant companion for the past year and a half, and I was loathe to give it up. 
> 
> Once I talked myself down from that ledge with the promise of being able to start working on the next installment in my Planetfall series, I was able to gather myself together and forge ahead. Fortunately, that was also around the point at which Todd comes back looking for John, and the second half was an absolute _pleasure_ to write. I did want the story to end with a bang.
> 
> All-told, it took me six weeks instead of my usual four to get this chapter written, starting it February 10th and completing the writing of it (not including the editing and re-writing) March 23rd. 
> 
> My research involved perusing the real estate websites for property in San Francisco. I had to find just the right location for John and Todd to set up house – and one with lots of interior photos, to provide visual cues for me to set scenes in. It's a good thing John is the son of a rich, rich man, and most likely well-off, himself. The property in San Fran is astronomically expensive. :)

Mid-afternoon sunlight poured through the bare front windows of the second floor apartment in bold rectangles of molten gold. It bounced off highly-polished wooden flooring and the tiles of the centrally-located pass-through fireplace, making the stark white walls glow with diffused light. John squinted and had to look away as he passed the archway leading to the back-to-back den and living room, then banged a left across the hall, into an equally-empty kitchen. 

He tossed the newly-cut ring of keys on the smooth granite countertop with a clatter that echoed throughout the front rooms, taking a moment to admire the sleek stainless steel appliances that ostensibly 'came with the place,' but that he'd had to fight tooth-and-claw to make sure stayed. In retrospect, John wasn't sure why he'd fought so hard for them, seeing as the wraith probably wasn't going to be using the stove, or the dishwasher, or the refrigerator for that matter, but in the heat of the down-and-dirty real estate deal he'd managed to pull off in only four days, it had become the principle of the thing. 

Weary after his two-hour marathon breakfast meeting that morning with the attorneys, signing mountains of paperwork and handing over a certified check drawn on the shell corporation account his lawyers had set up for him, John decided that what he really wanted was a cup of coffee made in his brand new kitchen. He set the plastic bag of groceries he was still holding on the counter and reached for the unopened coffee maker. As he popped the staples on the box and started to unpack it, Sheppard listened to the sounds of the building around him. 

Over the soft hum of the refrigerator, he could hear the faint creaks and squeals of old doors being opened and shut as Todd explored the rooms at the back of the apartment, and even farther off, the sounds of children playing and the occasional car passing on the street below. It all felt so comfortable and familiar all of a sudden, that John couldn't help but smile. Even though actually acquiring the place had been a major headache, it was already starting to feel like someplace he could call home. 

The property Sheppard had finally settled on was a four-story walk-up. A beautifully-renovated Edwardian Painted Lady, south of Market in the heart of the Castro district, it was not only 'close to schools and parks,' as the real estate agent was quick to point out, it was also secure and surprisingly private, and most important, in the middle of the exotic hustle-and-bustle Todd needed in order to blend in. They'd looked at a couple of places farther out, but the areas were too suburban - too pedestrian – and John knew the wraith would have stood out like a sore thumb. So they'd headed back to the city, itself, and found this little gem just as they had been about ready to give up for the day. With a nod from the wraith, he'd made an offer then and there: cash on the barrelhead, three-day close. 

That's when the fun and games had begun in earnest.

As Sheppard did his best to rinse out the glass carafe with paper towels and hand soap, his amused expression hardened into a fierce grin. 

John Sheppard wasn't his father's son for nothing, and he'd apparently picked up his cutthroat attitude at Patrick Sheppard's knee. Deciding early-on in the negotiations that he wasn't going to allow himself to be taken advantage of, especially not in a real estate transaction of this size, he'd called his brother, Dave, and had him sic a couple of corporate mergers-and-acquisitions lawyers on the situation. 

John knew his father would have been so proud to see his two sons working together as a team, cutting their teeth on the bloodthirsty joy of pinning a little real estate office to the wall until it cried 'uncle.' Truth-be-told, Sheppard had kind of enjoyed it. With years of experience in the military under his belt, facing down enemies and making life-and-death decisions on the fly, he was apparently a natural at navigating shark-infested corporate waters. Not that he wanted to switch careers, but after all the time he'd spent resisting the path his father had wanted him to travel, it had been a revelation to find he actually had an affinity for it.

It was more than he could say for the coffee maker. John wrestled with it, frowning in consternation as he tried to put it back together. After a couple of minutes of jiggling this and pushing that, he finally managed to re-seat all the washable parts, and with a triumphant sigh, pulled filters and coffee out of the bag on the counter. He took a moment to study the package, wondering at its contents. 

Sheppard knew he was out of the coffee-buying loop, and that it had been several years since he'd actually had to purchase any himself, but he could safely say he'd never paid so much for a pound of coffee and a stack of filters in his life. Of course, all he'd been able to find at the quaint, upscale convenience store on the corner had been organically-grown, fair-trade coffee, and unbleached, recycled paper filters – but still. For that kind of money, the stuff had better be fantastic.

John dropped a filter in and eyeballed the right amount of coffee as he shook the grounds into the paper-lined basket. Satisfied that all looked as it should, he slid it into place. He had just lifted the carafe to fill the machine with water when he paused. Setting it down again, Sheppard gently pulled the basket out a second time and pushed it back in. This time, he heard and felt it click into place. He wasn't sure what had twigged him to recheck it; all he knew was that sometimes what appeared okay on the surface, was not alright underneath. It was a life-lesson John had learned the hard way too many times.

Ronon was a perfect example of that. When John and Todd had returned to the hotel after their first - and last, day of house-hunting, they'd been ambushed by Teyla, who had been lying in wait for them in the lobby. She intercepted them on their way to the elevator to apprise them of what had transpired between herself and the Satedan, and to warn Todd of Ronon's threat. 

Although John was well-aware of Ronon's ongoing issues with the wraith, the Satedan had seemed calm enough when they'd left that morning. His sudden explosion had blindsided John with its intensity, but like any good commander when a member of his team was having a problem, he'd done his best to address it immediately. 

After making sure the wraith was settled comfortably in their room, with more promises for Todd to hold him to when he returned, Sheppard had spent the evening with Ronon in the hotel's lounge, devouring appetizers, drinking beer, and watching a baseball game on the big screen TV over the bar. 

_During the seventh inning stretch, John glanced over at the Satedan. “We good?”_

_“Yeah,” came the gruff reply._

_“Good,” Sheppard nodded, as he ordered another round, “Glad we were able to work that out.”_

Although Teyla had remained skeptical that anything had really been resolved, John had felt certain that he and Ronon had a real meeting-of-minds. Sheppard had sincerely hoped that was the case, anyway, since his attention was soon diverted with home-buying skirmishes, leaving Teyla and Ronon at loose ends.

In an effort to keep them entertained - and Ronon from brooding - John had sent the pair on as many excursions as he could find. They'd cruised the Bay and toured Alcatraz, spent time with the redwoods in Muir Woods, and taken guided tours through several of the many museums and attractions the city had to offer. From Teyla's daily reports, the Satedan had been subdued and surprisingly accommodating since his meltdown in the restaurant. John was hopeful it meant the squall had blown over; and Ronon's continued good behavior certainly seemed to confirm that. 

The rich aroma of brewing coffee permeated the air, distracting John from his thoughts. Inhaling deeply, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the island while the infernal machine crouched on the counter, hissing and crackling. After a few mesmerizing minutes of watching the carafe slowly fill with the promise of steaming salvation, he reached over and pulled the last few items out of the grocery bag: a pint of milk, a small box of raw sugar packets, and a package of to-go cups with lids. John grinned as he lined everything up on the polished granite. There was no food in the house, but he'd made damn sure there was coffee.

It was a good thing, too – both the coffee, and the Satedan's cooperation. Knee-deep in negotiations by that point, Sheppard had already been distracted, he couldn't have dealt with another temper tantrum on top of the ones the seller had been throwing. 

Tied to the hotel room phone while he waited for incoming calls, the only thing that had made it bearable was having an excuse to languish in bed with Todd for a few days. It had been a rare luxury to have nowhere to go and very little to do, and Sheppard had made the most of it. Whether it was seeking another close encounter with his very own alien life-form, catching up on his considerable sleep debt, or stretching out next to the wraith on the sofa, answering questions while they watched TV, they'd settled into a quiet routine almost effortlessly. By himself, John would have been climbing the walls, but having Todd there to keep him company had made the wait much more enjoyable, and for the first time in more years than he cared to admit, Sheppard had actually started to unwind and experience that almost-forgotten state known as well-rested relaxation.

A noise in the hall brought John back to the present. He glanced over his shoulder and found Todd leaning against the doorframe, watching him with quiet regard. Sheppard's breath caught in his throat as he met the wraith's golden, feline eyes. Even dressed as he was in a pair of grey sweatpants and a tanktop, his shaggy mane pulled back in a loose, haphazard ponytail at the base of his skull with strands of pale hair falling in his face, the alien was incredibly appealing. There weren't many who could carry off that sexy, disheveled look with such aplomb.

“I wondered where you had gotten to,” Todd remarked with a smirk. “I should have known where you would be, and what you would be doing.”

“Of course,” John replied with a smile. “A man's got to have his priorities.”

Todd's gaze traveled down Sheppard's body and back up again in one of those slow, heated sweeps that was almost a physical caress. “Indeed,” he agreed, setting down the trash bag he'd brought from the bedroom. It was full of debris from the new sheets, blankets, and pillows that now graced the king-size bed which had arrived a half-hour after they had.

John was still vibrating from the look that never failed to excite him, when Todd grabbed another trash bag from the open box on the end of the counter nearest the door. He flashed his consort a knowing grin. “As you were, Sheppard. Enjoy your coffee.” 

The wraith was gone before Sheppard could respond, although he could hear him moving around in the butler's pantry which had been converted into an office by the previous owner. By the sounds of it, Todd was setting up the computer John had purchased during one of their nightly sojourns.

As much as John and the wraith had enjoyed their time together – and they had - the reality was that they'd still been stuck in the hotel room all day, every day, while the house was in contention. They were both relieved once end-of-business rolled around at five o'clock, when they no longer had to grapple with the possibility of missing a call. Released from their daily vigil until the following morning, and antsy from being cooped up for hours, the pair had taken the opportunity every night to go out and explore the city, allowing the mild summer evenings and perpetual ocean breeze to restore their spirits. Side-by-side, they'd walked streets burgeoning with summertime tourists and colorful locals, making brief forays into shops as Sheppard had outfitted Todd with electronics, clothes – anything he'd felt the other might need. 

Although he'd done his best to ignore it, John had felt his cheeks redden a few times when he could see assumptions being made about him and Todd being together. While it was true - they _were_ together, and he wouldn't have denied it if someone had asked instead of just giving them looks, there was a big difference between being cocooned with the wraith in the surreality of their eleventh-floor bower at the hotel, and being seen and acknowledged by others as a couple. It had felt a whole hell of a lot gayer, and Sheppard knew it was going to take a long time before he was entirely comfortable with it.

Todd obviously had no issues with taking their relationship public, and often just seemed mildly amused by Sheppard's random bouts of discomfort. Nonetheless, he could be counted on to offer his own brand of quiet support when it was needed, instinctively moving closer whenever he sensed John's apprehension increasing. Sheppard had found that usually helped. Having the wraith's solid, imperturbable presence by his side went a long way toward helping him maintain his equilibrium in those situations. 

The last drops of coffee had scarcely fallen before John pulled the carafe off the burner. He paused, marking the significance of the moment – his own coffee, his own house – then ceremoniously poured himself a cup. He added sugar and a dollop of milk to the rich, black brew, watching it turn just the right shade of brown. As he raised the cup to his lips, blowing across the liquid's surface to cool it, it dawned on him how eager he was to try this strange blend – without any second thoughts, without hesitation – although he'd never had it before. 

It was remarkably similar to the reaction he'd had when he and Todd had first crossed paths. 

Sheppard had never been particularly attracted to men, but once he'd encountered the wraith in that Genii compound, it had been all over for him. In spite of his initial fear, in spite of the agony he'd endured throughout the feedings, there had been a magnetic pull between them almost from the very beginning. The attraction had been instantaneous and electric, and so profound it felt like someone had flipped a switch on a cellular level - as if he'd suddenly found his polarity. 

Deeming the coffee to be cool enough, John took an experimental sip. It was perfect - just like the potential contained in this moment, as he paused at the beginning of an unexpected chapter in his life. 

He'd come away from their first meeting confused and angry, aroused and terrified. He certainly hadn't wanted to feel the way he had about the wraith, but there had been absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. So he'd hidden from it and denied it – and by doing so, had rejected a vital part of himself for far too long. It had taken him three long years, but he could finally face it. Male. Wraith. In the end, did it really matter? There was something about the combination that stirred John's blood in a way he couldn't account for but had to have, and he found himself looking forward to the day when it no longer bothered him to admit it.

Considering the recurring issues he'd had all week, Sheppard knew that day was probably still a long way off. For the present, some days were definitely better than others, and unfortunately, dealing with it at all was going to have to be temporarily put on-hold.

John gazed into the depths of his coffee between sips, his hand wrapped around the cardboard as he let the heat of the beverage warm his chilled fingers. According to the message from Woolsey that had been waiting for him at the hotel's front desk that morning, Sheppard needed to be back on Atlantis by 0800 tomorrow morning to report for duty. That meant his time with Todd was almost up. 

Sheppard hated good-byes. His almost-pathological inability to express himself aside, the emotional intensity of having to leave behind someone he cared about had always been torturous for him. Although he rarely showed his feelings, he certainly experienced them. Unfortunately, with no outlet for his pain - no soothing balm of sadness shared - it lingered unresolved, only to be stuffed down and ignored until the next time, when the bandage was ripped off the unhealed wound yet again. 

He sometimes found it ironic that his seeming indifference to his ex-wife's emotional state had been a significant factor in their eventual split. It had never been easy leaving Nancy when he'd been called away on missions he couldn't tell her about, and although he hadn't been able to find the words, the tears she'd cried had torn him up inside every time. He doubted Todd would ever want him to express something as weak as sadness or regret at their parting, and yet John was concerned that this time he might actually let something slip. His feelings for the alien had escalated pretty quickly over the past few days, and in some ways, he was finding the inevitability of this upcoming departure harder to bear than it had ever been with his ex-wife. 

A frown creased John's brow as he wondered how he was going to make it through the next couple of weeks without the pulse-pounding excitement of having a Wraith in his bed. Now that he knew what he'd been depriving himself of – both of them, really – he was loathe to give it up, but duty called, and he had no choice but to answer. He checked his watch, heaving a relieved sigh when he noted the time. At least it was early yet, and he could put off thinking about it for another few hours.

John was about to take another sip of coffee when he suddenly felt a presence behind him an instant before hands slid up his arms and onto his chest, and a body pressed against him from behind. 

“My turn,” came the harsh, impassioned whisper in his ear even as the to-go cup was lifted from his unresisting grasp and placed on the counter. John watched, fascinated, as the feeding hand returned to his chest - as it sensuously pressed against his t-shirt, lingering over his sternum for a moment before strong fingers gripped the open edges of his jacket and began gently peeling it off him. Nails scratched along his shoulders and down over his bare forearms as it was pulled lower, making him shiver with anticipation. Sheppard barely registered the soft sound of fabric pooling on the floor, the click of the zipper as it landed on polished wood, he was too distracted by the touch of cool lips on the back of his neck and the sensation of a wickedly-knowledgeable tongue trailing across his skin until it could follow the folds of his ear. He succumbed with a sigh, running his hands over the smooth, muscular arms that enfolded him.

Todd sensed his paramour's acquiescence and instinctively tightened his grip. He possessively tugged John back against him, nuzzling and nipping until the human tilted his head, offering the strong column of his throat. Although the wraith never wanted Sheppard to be anything other than his equal – here, in the privacy of their quarters, in their most intimate moments, Todd's natural dominance prevailed, and to have a being as strong and stubborn as John Sheppard bend to him so willingly pleased him immensely. So exquisite, in fact, was his pleasure in the man's submission, that Todd could not suppress a groan as he pressed his mouth to Sheppard's neck, careful not to break the skin with his sharp teeth as he latched on.

John leaned his head back against the other's shoulder, his breath coming in shuddering gasps as the combination of wet suction and warm exhalations sent jolts of pleasure surging through him. He gave himself over to Todd's undivided attention, soft moans rising and falling with the variable pressure of dangerous teeth against his skin. His sounds of enjoyment devolved into a noise of disappointment a few minutes later when the wraith drew back, while a low chuckle rumbled in the alien's chest as he observed the dark red mark he'd left, ringed with serrated indentation. 

Todd leaned in and ran a careful tongue over the ridges of flesh, reveling yet again in the primal satisfaction that came with marking the human. There was no mistaking it, John was _his_. A thrill ran through him – pride of ownership, pleasure in Sheppard's company, and a gratitude the wraith would probably never admit to that John returned his feelings.

He felt Sheppard shift, and loosened his hold just enough for the human to turn in the circle of his arms, the wraith's hands gliding down John's broad back as he did so, until they rested on the curve of Sheppard's very appealing backside. Todd flexed his fingers and squeezed gently, enjoying the play of firm muscles shifting and tightening just out of reach, encased in the rough denim rubbing against his palms. John met his gaze with lust-filled hazel eyes - a heat Todd had become intimately familiar with over the past several days. Unguarded in a way he'd allowed very few to witness, the wraith shivered with an answering passion he could barely contain, bringing a triumphant smile to his companion's face. 

With a tenderness that surprised them both, John reached up and ran his hand along the line of Todd's jaw before sliding it under thick, white hair to grip the back of his neck. The wraith felt John's fingers tighten, beckoning, and he allowed himself to be drawn in, eagerly meeting Sheppard's lips with his own. He pulled John to him, trailing the tip of his tongue teasingly over Sheppard's lips until the human opened to him with groan, their tongues entwining as they hungrily explored each other's mouths. 

John was the first to pull away, trying to catch his breath as he rested his hands on the other's muscular arms, marveling at the sheer magnitude of potential energy beneath his fingertips, coiled tightly and ready to spring. He sensed it in the wraith's fine trembling, in the ridges he could feel through the other's sweatpants as he pressed against him, aroused and eager. He saw it in Todd's face – in the tension of his jaw, and the intensity of his glittering gaze, pupils blown and ringed with the thinnest sliver of gold. And yet, as ancient and powerful as he was, the alien paused, quivering and poised on the verge of what promised to be a violent release, waiting for a sign from Sheppard to proceed. Just the thought of what Todd was capable of stiffened John's cock, and he rocked himself against the wraith's hardness with a groan. 

Taking the friction John offered as permission, Todd leaned forward for another kiss. He was surprised when Sheppard's grip on his arms tightened and the human pulled back, evading his lips. Stopped mere inches from his lover, the wraith peered at him curiously.

“Is something wrong, Sheppard?”

“No,” John whispered raggedly, as he considered the wraith with lust-glazed eyes. “Did you get the bed made up?”

Todd nodded, a slow smile curling his lips.

“How about we move this to the bedroom?”

Sheppard had no sooner uttered the words when Todd's arm encircled his waist, sweeping John out of the kitchen and down the hall. By the time Sheppard recovered enough to react, they were already in the Master suite. 

“Whoa!” John exclaimed, and the wraith stopped in his tracks halfway through the antechamber. It was a sitting area – a dressing room in bygone days when valuable square-footage was actually set aside for such prosaic activities. It resembled a broad hallway, lined on one side with closets which faced a row of windows on the other.

With his arm still firmly wrapped around his paramour, Todd backed John up against one of the doors. Losing himself in the musk of human arousal, he ghosted his lips over Sheppard's neck, shivering as John trailed tentative palms over his hips along the waistband of his sweatpants, and up under his tank top to rub distracted circles on his back. When John's fingertips grazed the especially-sensitive skin found between the bone spurs that ran the length of his spine, the wraith arched and pressed himself closer, insinuating his knee between Sheppard's legs. John shifted his stance to accommodate the intrusion. He straddled Todd's muscular thigh, squeezing his legs around it and moaning at the delicious friction the movement caused, while the alien bit back impassioned noises of his own as he tugged on Sheppard's shirt, hiking it out of his jeans so he could slide a curious hand underneath to caress heated flesh. 

John's head fell back against the painted wood, panting as the wraith traced unexpectedly-cool fingers over his abdomen and chest. “Todd,” he murmured breathlessly, his excitement growing exponentially as he became aware of how vulnerable his position was, pinned to the wall by an aroused Wraith whose feeding hand was up his shirt and whose sharp teeth grazed his throat. Balancing precariously on the keen edge of danger and desire was nothing new for John. He'd been drawn to the intoxicating fusion of pleasure and risk all of his life, and the wraith - his beautiful monster - certainly provided that in spades. Sheppard's heart pounded as he rode the adrenaline that flooded his system, groaning his lover's name a second time as he desperately pressed the bulge in his jeans against the wraith's leg, knees weak with a desire so all-consuming he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it to the bed. 

Still lost in the heady mixture of pheromones and human lust, Todd growled deeply when Sheppard's voice finally penetrated the fierce longing that coursed through him. He reluctantly released John's throat, the desire to mark him again almost overwhelming. “Sheppard,” he whispered against the human's neck, smiling when his warm breath sent a shiver down his captive's spine.

“Bed,” John gasped, clutching at the wraith. 

Responding in kind, Todd slipped his hands out from under John's shirt and down to cup his lover's flanks. He dragged the human closer, giving Sheppard time to wrap his legs around his waist and tighten his grip on his shoulders. Face-to-face, John leaned in and captured Todd's lower lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth and laving it with his tongue until the wraith groaned with agonized delight. He pulling back and kissed Sheppard hard in return, teeth clicking as their lips melded, tongues sliding over each other in a passionate dance as Todd carried him around the corner to the bedroom. 

The next thing John knew Todd was kneeling on the king-size bed, one strong arm clinging to him, the other supporting their weight as he gently guided them down until Sheppard was on his back, his legs still wrapped around the wraith who was now lying between them. John moaned when Todd shifted and settled against him, the erotic sensation of the alien's hardness rubbing against his own through thin fabric short-circuiting what little capacity for coherent thought he still possessed. All he knew was that he wanted more - now.

Sheppard drew back, panting, from the kiss. Unable to resist the allure of the creature pinning him to the bed, John grabbed the wraith's top and managed to drag it up his back and over his head, leaving it looped around Todd's arms and gathered across his chest. The wraith arched his back as far as the vice of Sheppard's thighs would allow and pulled it off the rest of the way. He tossed the shirt aside and shook long white hair back from broad shoulders, even as John reached up to trail hot, eager fingertips over muscles flexing beneath smooth, green skin.

Meanwhile, the wraith was losing his own battle with desire. At the touch of Sheppard's hands and his surge in pheromones, the alien's first instinct was to rip John's t-shirt right off his back. He actually had his finger hooked in the neckline of the garment before Todd remembered Sheppard's request that he not destroy _all_ of his clothes, so with a snarl he wrestled John's t-shirt up and off, instead. Once Sheppard's toned, muscular body was revealed, however, Todd forgot all about his frustration. Drawn like a moth to a flame, he reverently traced the scars he'd given the human three years earlier with a covetous intensity that made John's breath hitch. 

“Want you,” John whispered passionately, rocking himself against the wraith's arousal.

“And I, you,” Todd murmured. He drew a shuddering breath as he worked his hand between them, grazing both of their erections while he fumbled with John's fly. It didn't help his concentration when Sheppard arched into his palm with a groan. 

“These need to come off,” the wraith snarled, impatiently tugging at the belt-loops as he met Sheppard's dazed eyes. It took a moment for them to re-focus as Todd's words sank in, but once they did, John nodded and unwound his legs from around the wraith. He let him peel his jeans and boxers down, hissing with pleasure when his trapped cock was finally freed. It hardened even as he eagerly raised his hips to allow the denim to come off more easily, and sprang to full attention as the alien dragged the fabric down his body, his nails leaving raised furrows on Sheppard's thighs.

With a growl of triumph Todd finally liberated John from the offending material and threw the pants across the room, his own joining them a few seconds later. He resumed his position between his lover's legs, kneeling and watching Sheppard's lustful gaze travel heatedly over his body. A smirk tugged at the wraith's mouth, pleased that John found him such an arousing sight. Hoping to inflame his lover even further, Todd took full advantage of the human's rapt attention and teasingly trailed his hand down his own chest and abdomen toward his turgid cock, as John's eyes, mesmerized, followed his every movement.

Sheppard swallowed hard, staring in open-mouthed admiration as the wraith wrapped his fingers around the dark grey length jutting proudly from between his thighs, stroking it languidly while he smiled down at him with a wide, lascivious grin. John didn't think he'd ever seen anything quite so hot in all his life, and attained critical mass in a matter of seconds. Reaching for Todd with a strangled groan, he hooked his heels around the back of the alien's knees to try and draw him in.

What he managed to do was knock the wraith off balance, and he landed with his hands on either side of Sheppard's head. Within grabbing distance now, John trailed covetous hands up and down the other's sides, attempting to pull him closer. Todd obliged, lowering himself onto his elbows and taking the opportunity to kiss his paramour again, as he buried his fingers in Sheppard's thick, dark hair. 

While their tongues dueled for dominance, Todd reached for the tube of lubricant he'd left lying on the bed before he'd fetched his errant lover from the kitchen. He popped the top single-handedly and coated his fingers with it, then pressed fingertips whose nails had been pared back to 'human length' several days ago at John's behest, against Sheppard's puckered entrance. 

John broke the kiss with a gasp as the wraith spread the cool liquid in small circles, fingers massaging and pressing and promising more. He ran his hands feverishly over Todd's smooth chest, trembling with need and waiting with breathless anticipation for the first invasion. It came soon enough, and Sheppard panted as the wraith's finger slowly thrust in and out, a myriad of emotions rising to the surface as Todd slid his digit deeper with each careful movement – uncertainty at first, giving way to pleasure, and finally escalating desire. 

More lube followed, and additional fingers, and John was soon clutching at the sheets and moaning the wraith's name, and _Please_ , in a mantra of yearning Todd was powerless to resist. The tender intimacy of gently opening his lover with fingers and unguents before the brutality to follow was such a human act, the wraith had hoped it would serve to remind him of how fragile the man beneath him was – how careful he had to be with him. Instead, John's seductive pleading had awakened such an intense mating urge, that Todd's desire to mount the male beneath him threatened to blot out all reason. 

Dizzy with lust, Todd slid his fingers out of his impassioned consort then reached for the back of his knees, but Sheppard was already way ahead of him. He wound his legs around the wraith's torso and slid them up until his heels rested between the other's shoulder blades, a voluptuous shudder running through him as he arched impatiently, offering himself. 

Blind to everything but the other's invitation to mate, Todd wasted no time in lining himself up and breaching John's entrance with the arousal-slicked tip of his engorged cock. The wraith rested his hands by John's shoulders and leaned into him as he nudged the bulbous head past Sheppard's tight ring of muscles, snarling with delight as he slowly sank his ridged shaft into the human's heat, feeling it engulf him, inch by delectable inch.

Sheppard caught his lower lip between his teeth as the wraith pushed himself inside by degrees, welcoming the burn and yearning for more. Already driven to the limits of his endurance by the other's curious fingers, he reached up to grasp Todd's shoulders, silently pleading for what he needed with desperate eyes while the alien trembled above him, struggling to maintain some semblance of control. John's passionate gaze grew darker and more urgent, until finally the last shred of Todd's wavering restraint snapped. With a violent roll of his hips, the wraith impaled his lover on his prodigious length, giving them both what they craved. 

John rocked his head back against the mattress and cried out - stretched, invaded, and on fire with the pleasure and pain of it, while the wraith stilled for a moment, his eyes slipping shut in rapture as Sheppard's body instinctively clenched against the intrusion, convulsively squeezing his rigid cock. 

“You are mine, Sheppard,” Todd rasped against his paramour's neck, his voice rough with desire.

“God – yes,” John groaned in reply, guttural and needy.

John's whispered admission sent a primal surge of lust rocketed through the wraith, pooling in his loins. Growling possessively, Todd began to thrust into the human's tightness, short, sharp strokes building to longer ones as his excitement rose, until he was pistoning in and out of John with wanton abandon.

Sheppard met Todd's thrusts eagerly, tingling from the assault as he took every inch of the wraith's impressive length. Breathless and glassy-eyed, he lost himself in the raging fire that consumed him as he surrendered to the thick, ridged cock that opened him wide and filled him up so perfectly. 

Responding to the musky scent of John's desire, intensified by the sheen of sweat that covered his body from their passionate exertions, Todd found himself nearing orgasm too quickly. Sheppard's willing submission and the tight heat he offered like a gift conspired to drive the wraith to completion far too soon, and he drew a shaky breath as he sought to distract himself. Slowing his strokes, he shifted the angle of his attack a few times until John suddenly spasmed around him, almost arching off the bed when the wraith's cock glided over his prostate. 

Pleased with the intensity of Sheppard's response, the alien focused his attention on sliding back and forth across it as often as he could as he found his rhythm again, while John moaned and thrashed beneath him, helpless against the onslaught. The enticing sounds and irresistible scents Todd was able to wring from his consort soon redoubled his excitement, and before long he was once again driving into Sheppard with single-minded intensity. 

John clung tightly to Todd's shoulders, his sweaty fingers slipping on the other's smooth skin as he rode the mounting waves of bliss that shook him to the core. The wraith moved deep inside him, his ridged shaft brushing against Sheppard's prostate again and again shooting white-hot sparks of electric pleasure up his spine with each thrust. John's eyes slid shut as he succumbed to the overwhelming sensation, the better to experience being pounded into oblivion by his skillful lover as he chased his climax, taking Sheppard with him. 

“Close,” Todd managed to grind out when his punishing rhythm faltered, the rapturous friction growing too exquisite to bear. Feeling the wraith starting to come undone, John reached between them to wrap his hand around his weeping erection, slick with the pre-come the alien had milked from him with each powerful stroke against that responsive nub deep inside. Sheppard's breath caught in his throat as he touched his throbbing, sensitized cock, and he struggled to hold himself back, trying to draw out the searing pleasure for even a few seconds longer. 

Suddenly, Todd's ragged panting escalated to a fever pitch as he hit his peak, and John's eyes flew open in time to watch his lover unravel. Golden eyes half-closed, his face suffused with ecstasy, the wraith groaned mindlessly as shudder after shudder of pleasure wracked him from head-to-toe, in time to the jets of seed he pumped deep inside Sheppard's body. 

An answering groan spilled from John's lips. Just knowing he could do that - bring the wraith to the brink and push him over the top to shatter into a million glittering crystalline shards, was finally too much for him. Trembling on the verge of his own imminent release, all it took was one last twist of his hand and John followed Todd over the edge with a startled cry of pleasure, painting his chest and abdomen with creamy white stripes just before the wraith collapsed on top of him, sated and spent.

The pair lay in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs, panting softly in each other's ears as they caught their breath. For a few moments they just... existed, connected by their mutual need and the completion they found together. Neither one moved or spoke as their breathing slowed and synchronized, their stillness acknowledging the moment for what it was – fragile, fleeting – precious. 

It wasn't until John finally attempted to take a deep breath and couldn't, that the interlude faded. Realizing he must be crushing the human, Todd shifted, reaching up to help Sheppard unhook his legs so he could move. Instead, John tightened his grip, pressing his heels between the wraith's shoulder blades to pull him even closer. Todd complied with alacrity and bent down for a tender kiss. The human's lips, when he met them, were still quivering from the force of the orgasm that had swept over both of them, and the wraith exalted in the realization of what they had done – what they had achieved. 

They had traversed a long, arduous road spanning the distance between their two galaxies and disparate species, and against all odds they'd managed to overcome the obstacles which had stood in their way so they could travel it together. From inauspicious beginnings as prisoners of the Genii, to uncertain allies, then Brothers – they had become lovers - consorts, with the very real possibility of it developing into something even deeper and stronger. 

Sheppard reached up, tangling his fingers in the long, white strands of the wraith's disheveled hair, and Todd drew back to gaze at the man beneath him.

“Wow,” John breathed, boneless and content. “That was amazing.”

With miles to go before either of them could rest, the destination paled in comparison to the journey, itself, now that they were united as one – and for the first time in his very long life, Todd allowed himself to believe that perhaps he might not have to go it alone, after all.

The wraith smiled warmly, the depth of his feelings clearly evident in his unguarded features. “I concur, John Sheppard,” he murmured, as he leaned in for another kiss. “Amazing, indeed.”


	15. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end._
> 
>  
> 
> \- Semisonic **Closing Time**
> 
>  
> 
> So, this is it. The end of **Best Laid Plans**. It's been a wild ride for both Todd and John, and I'm looking forward to an even wilder one in **All's Fair.** I've already started work on it and am eager to share the boys' new adventure. My plan is to post the first chapter at the end of June. 
> 
> Of course, we all know how best laid plans go – most likely terribly awry, but I'm sure it'll all work out in the end. :)

Two pairs of eyes instinctively turned toward the front windows as the exposed angles of the house across the street were lit up by the arriving taxi's headlights. Before the cabbie parked and shut them down, the unexpected brightness of the reflected light briefly illuminated the night-darkened living room, casting long, strange shadows across the polished wooden floor. 

John heaved a resigned sigh as he hefted his duffel bag onto his shoulder, a look of wistful longing flickering across his weary features. He took a moment to glance around the apartment, lit now only by the ambient glow of a street light, then let himself out, pulling the door closed behind him as quietly as possible. 

Todd stepped out of the shadows, listening to the jingle of Sheppard's keys as he shot the deadbolt from the outside, and the faint receding tread of sneakers on the staircase as he slowly descended to the street below. It was the wraith's turn to sigh as he glided silently to the door, gently pressing his palms against its painted surface. True-to-form, Sheppard had dodged the possibility of facing an emotionally-charged situation by slipping out in the middle of the night, leaving behind what he'd thought was a sleeping bedmate. 

A smirk tugged at Todd's lips. He understood his consort's actions all too well. He'd been dealing with John's inability to express himself for three years, and while considerable progress had made in the past week, the human wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

In actuality the wraith had awakened as soon as John had stirred, sat up and checked his watch, and cursed under his breath. Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even, Todd had feigned slumber, all the while listening as Sheppard had puttered quietly around the room, gathering his duffel and hastily-discarded clothing. Even with his lids shut, he had sensed when John had paused by his side of the bed before going to take a shower. If Todd hadn't already been awake, the almost-palpable waves of affection and sorrow rolling off the man would have brought him to consciousness instantly. The wraith had accepted the necessity of his lover's departure as stoically as John had, but it had been gratifying to know Sheppard cared for this enforced separation as little as Todd did. 

A tiny red flashing light reflecting in the high-gloss white finish of the century-old front door caught the wraith's eye, and he glanced toward the kitchen to locate its source. One of the two cellphones John had purchased earlier in the week was nestled in its dock next to the coffeemaker, blinking on-and-off to let him know its power source was fully-charged. John carried its twin, along with Todd's promise that he would call Sheppard _immediately_ if he needed anything. 

While the wraith appreciated that John had made the effort to try and maintain an open line of communication between them, clumsy and inelegant substitute for telepathy though it was, he doubted he'd be calling Sheppard anytime in the foreseeable future. Contrary to his paramour's beliefs, Todd was entirely capable of taking care of himself – and had been for quite a long time.

Regardless of his reassurances on that front, though, it had been difficult to keep John from worrying. True to his nature, the human had felt responsible for him being in this predicament, never taking into account the fact that it had been Todd who had reached out to the Atlantis expedition first, fully cognizant that there was a possibility of something like this occurring. For better or worse, he'd thrown his lot in with his human allies, counting on Sheppard to watch his back, which he'd done – admirably so. Hiding in plain sight in a large Earth city swarming with people was far from the worst scenario the wraith had envisioned for himself. John had nothing to feel badly about.

The distinctive click of the downstairs latch catching brought Todd back to the present. He strode soundlessly to one of the broad living room windows, instinctively avoiding the floorboards he'd already identified as creaky, just as he'd done when he managed to follow John down the hall from the bedroom without being heard. Taking up a relatively-concealed position by the casement, the alien watched as Sheppard climbed into the cab - as the low beams once again cut through the night - as the vehicle pulled away, taking John back to his friends – and to Atlantis.

His adversary, and his consort.

His enemy, and his Brother.

John was all these things and more.

“Mate?” Todd whispered, tasting the word. It tasted sweet. 

Glittering golden eyes watched the taillights of the taxi brighten at the corner, the blinker indicating to a deserted street that it was about to turn left.

As long as he'd endured, Todd had never taken a mate. A warrior by design, he'd lived life on a razor's edge as he'd followed the inclinations of his ambitious nature, clawing his way to the top until he'd achieved the rank of Commander. Between the intricacies of Wraith politics and grasping underlings hatching plots, it was a tenuous position, at best, for _anyone_ sitting in the Commander's chair – and one he'd been toppled from many times. Unable to find a Wraith with the fortitude to stand by him through the inevitable reversals of fortune - one with whom he could trust his life and well-being - he'd limited himself to lovers and consorts, convincing himself he didn't desire more.

The cab disappeared around the corner, and the wraith sighed, finally admitting to himself something he'd been dancing around all week. No - far longer. If there was anyone he'd want that strongest of bonds with, it would be John Sheppard. 

It was not unheard of among Wraith to take up with a human for a time, with the unspoken understanding that the man or woman was disposable - expendable. Even in the rare instances when there was evidence of genuine affection between the pair, the inherent inequality between Wraith and human made taking things much beyond a casual relationship... difficult, at best. But John wasn't a pet, or a plaything – he was Todd's match in all the ways that mattered, and always had been. An honorable human – a Brother from the first, Sheppard had taken his place beside him long before Todd had returned his life. The wraith wanted to acknowledge that – wanted anyone they encountered to know just how much this man meant to him, regardless of whatever resistance or censure he'd be sure to face once they returned to Pegasus. Todd was more than willing to meet it head-on, if he had the honor of claiming John as his mate. 

Who could say - perhaps the intimacy of that bond was a possibility sometime in their future. With a human as formidable as Sheppard, the wraith had learned not to count anything out. Until then, he and John had much to learn about each other. With the human's lack of telepathy, and Todd's ban from Sheppard's head, they'd barely scratched the surface, leaving the wraith with tantalizing glimpses of a life he was eager to explore more fully. 

A faint shiver suddenly wracked Todd's body as the hunger he'd been suppressing for the past couple of days got the better of him, burning him from the inside as it surged through his veins. He convulsively clutched the wooden casement until it passed, leaving him breathless. Since his time with the Genii, he'd had to be careful not to let himself go too long before he fed. Decades of near-starvation had altered his metabolism, causing his system to practically shut down if he grew too hungry, in an effort to conserve his strength. The last time he'd reached that point had been when he and Dr. McKay had been working together to stop the Replicators, precipitating John's generous donation of Henry Wallace. Todd knew that until he had the opportunity to sleep deeply in the bowels of a Hive for a century or two in order to heal completely, the condition would persist; and as hibernation was unlikely to occur anytime soon, his only other option was to hide this weakness and make sure he fed often enough that it didn't become an issue. 

With a snarl, Todd straightened. It was well beyond time to hunt.

Seeking the evildoer as Sheppard had requested, the wraith's eyes slid shut as he centered himself, and with a soft exhalation of breath he cast his mind out like a shimmering net. Irresistibly drawn to the signature of a life-force he knew well and valued above all others, Todd suddenly found himself passing dark, silent houses in the back seat of a taxi. He felt Sheppard's surprise and heard him gasp when he sensed the wraith's presence in his head. 

_'Mine,'_ Todd whispered passionately, and John's astonishment gave way to tender affection in the wake of his fierce declaration. The wraith momentarily basked in the glow of Sheppard's contentment before darker desires rose within him, forcing him to pull away as he sent his consciousness farther afield.

He encountered what he was looking for with very little effort, and much closer than he'd expected. Across the park, in the Mission District, he found a killer lurking the streets, whose twisted thoughts he'd brushed two days earlier as he'd scanned the city. After ascertaining his general location, Todd came back to himself, grinning at his reflection in the glass. Now that he had touched the man's mind, tracking him should be easy, but he needed to move quickly before the human went to-ground for the night. The wraith unconsciously flexed the fingers of his feeding hand, a low growl of anticipation vibrating in the back of his throat as he glanced at the velvet blackness overhead, gauging the stars and the altitude of the moon. There were still several hours until dawn - plenty of time to bring down his quarry before first light.

The city slept on, unaware she had a new breed of predator in her midst, while inside an unassuming row house in the Castro District, the Hunter turned silently and stalked deeper into his lair to prepare for the Hunt. His abundantly-stocked feeding grounds awaited, and he was famished. 

 

 

End.

9/24/12 - 4/19/14


End file.
